


Hannah Montana: The Movie: The Rewrite

by CockyGay



Category: Hannah Montana (TV), Hannah Montana The Movie (2009)
Genre: Confusion, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Teenage Drama, baby gays, basically just a gay rewrite, do i really need to list everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24508309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CockyGay/pseuds/CockyGay
Summary: Shockingly, this is a retelling of a retelling of the Hannah Montana Movie. Lilly Truscott, baby gay, is pining after her best friend who, in her popstar alter-ego, keeps ruining everything. But when her best friend needs a favour, Lilly comes running and has to face her feelings and the confusion it brings especially when Southern boys are involved and there's a stalker reporter on the prowl.A rewrite of my FF version 10+ years ago.
Relationships: Miley Stewart | Hannah Montana & Lilly Truscott, Miley Stewart | Hannah Montana/Lilly Truscott
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can only apologise for this. It has been ten years after all. 
> 
> You see, I’ve been rewatching Hannah Montana on Disney+ and it got me thinking about the good old days and all those fics I left unfinished. The ones where I’ve gotten occasional messages through the years asking if I ever got over my writers block. Truth be told, I’d just abandoned them entirely. Soz. 
> 
> Way back when, I was X-Lonely-Girl-X on Fanfiction and I thought I was HOT STUFF. I reread them today. Christ. I am utterly embarrassed. Genuinely mortified. I cannot bring myself to finish them off when they are… well, as they are. I have therefore decided I would try and rewrite them (hopefully somewhat improved and with 10+ life experience). I mean, I wrote them as a lonely little lesbian who had never even kissed a girl. Now, I’m in my late twenties (gross) and after some SERIOUS home life issues in reaction to my sexuality, I have a wife who, after a month of marriage, became severely disabled and now I’m one of her carers. 
> 
> See, life experience. 
> 
> So enough chitter chatter, let’s see if I can still write from the perspective of a sixteen year old (is that problematic? Yikes). Anyway...

Concert tours have always been fun. 

There were the raucous tour bus parties, the kind of laughter that hurt your cheeks in dressing rooms and deliciously greasy burgers at every diner when we reached a new city. But that wasn’t even the best part. The best part was being able to spend days and weeks at a time with my best friend, Miley Stewart under the guise of popstar sensation, Hannah Montana. The worst part? I was utterly in love with her. 

She knew I liked girls. I broke that little secret in a game of truth or dare when we were fourteen. I thought I was going to explode with embarrassment when she didn’t say a thing. She burst out laughing soon after with a “You think I didn’t know that?” After that, it had never really been an issue. She never treated me any different, our friendship never faltered once. But maybe that was because I never told her about the gigantic crush I had on her. The one that has never gone away, the one that has become what I can only describe as love. 

Now, hand in hand - a normal best friend action that squeezed at my raw heart - we pushed through the crowds towards the ticket booth. We were late. Incredibly late. The last night of the tour and we had completely lost track of time exploring the mall and the arcade. Still dressed in plain, old Miley attire and with both our phones still on the tour bus, we had no way of getting into the building other than the front door which was impossible without a ticket. 

Finally, we reached the ticket booth window. I could barely manage to speak, utterly out of breath from all the running and the squeezing and the hand still holding tightly to mine.

“We’re sold out, sorry.” 

The ticket booth window was slammed closed. A disappointed groan from the crowd. Clearly, not as disappointed as those inside would be when they realised the popstar was stuck outside and unable to perform. The crowd started to dissipate, heading home with glum faces and dragging hand painted Hannah signs and posters behind them. 

I suddenly felt too sweaty and I reluctantly pulled my hand from Miley’s and rubbed it on my jeans. “You’re the only popstar I know that can’t get in her own freaking concert.”

Miley’s eyes were searching the area desperately. Her dad, Mr S, would no doubt be ready to wring their necks as soon as he laid eyes on the pair of them. I was already trying to come up with a suitable excuse - “There was a fire at the mall, we were trapped.” No, too ridiculous. “I got shot.” Come on, Truscott, that’s so much  _ worse _ . 

“What...?” I asked, noting the mischievous grin on the brunette’s face. She nodded across the parking lot and I followed her gaze. An unattended security cart. My stomach flipped. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

Miley just smirked in that way that she always did before she did something utterly ridiculous. She might have every faith in this clearly horrendous plan, never learning from her years of wayward schemes that never panned out. 

And that is exactly how we ended up inside the building, chased by her own security as Miley sped the tiny little cart around the hallways as if catching a clip of the Grand Prix when Jackson stole the TV was ample experience to know how to race and drift around corners. It was not. Yet another Marvellous Miley plan that did not go smoothly. Three times she nearly tipped us over. Three. 

On the third, it was on the final corner where a relieved Mr S found us. 

“Where the hell have you been? Don’t answer that, get in there - you’ve got ten minutes!” He waved his hand at the dressing room door and then jogged towards the out of breath security guard to somehow get us off the hook. 

Ten minutes to turn casual Miley into a popstar sensation that usually took a good forty-five minutes? It surely could not be done but after that near death experience, I wasn’t about to give up. It was a whirlwind of hands and wigs and make-up brushes. I barely had time to comprehend my own actions as I helped whip off her shirt as she unbuttoned her jeans.  _ Contain the gay, Lilly. Contain it.  _

It was not contained, not entirely anyway. An almost sixteen year old pining lesbian can hardly be blamed for a few prolonged glances of her best friend in limited attire, right?  _ You are a) objectifying her and b) being weirdly pervy. Stop it.  _

Gay quickly contained, Miley - or should I say Hannah - was stage ready in nine and a half minutes. An absolute record and her makeup was not smudged whatsoever, or at least, that’s what I told her as her dad knocked impatiently on the door. 

Miley yanked the door open, the sequined dress swinging with the motion. 

“Show time, babydoll.” Mr S said, his eyebrows in his hairline clearly surprised we’d managed to get her ready in such a short space of time. He nodded at me in thanks.

“Hey, good luck and don’t mess up.” I laughed after her as the pair of them jogged down the hallway towards the stage.

She stuck out her tongue and then offered me a final Miley grin before taking a deep breath at the corner. Five seconds later, her face composed and she was Miley no longer. Hannah disappeared from view toward the stage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. Yeah. Nothing happened. 
> 
> Keep the faith. There'll be stuff.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balls to the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More stuff.

Finally, the day was here. My sixteenth birthday. 

Miley and I had been planning the biggest and best birthday party since we were twelve. Everything was arranged, the Santa Monica pier booked, the band confirmed and the skate equipment had been erected yesterday. Oliver and I had given it a test run last night and I cannot wait for everyone to lose their minds at the  _ greatest party ever! _

It was also the night I had promised myself that I would tell Miley how I felt. It was too much, holding in all these feelings. I can’t go through another tour sharing such small quarters, exploring new towns and cities hand in hand. I needed to tell her, as scary as that was, and we would figure out where to go from there. I’m no fool, I know how unlikely it is that it would be reciprocated but I can no longer be satisfied with lingering looks across classrooms or the sheer torture of her lying beside me at sleepovers. I need to know if there is any hope for me before I try and eradicate the feelings, to try and find someone available  _ and gay _ . 

Maybe like Jenny who sometimes frequents the skate park when she can get away from her over-protective mother. She cut her hair short and dyed it pink last semester and started a whole new leather and lace type asethetic that was as if the gay gods were trying to send me a goddamn message.

Across the sports hall, there Jenny was in all her alternative punk glory. Could it be that those shared sodas at the skate park or the passed notes in Biology could make an easy transition from friend to more than friends? Jenny had the ball and easily volleyed it back over the net. Shaking the thoughts from my mind, I tried to refocus and get my head in the game. Jenny was hot, sure. But nothing really compared to—

“ _ Miley _ !” I yelled. 

It was too late. In my distraction, I had failed to see the ball hurtling towards a distracted Miley and the ball collided with her face and knocked her down to the floor.

_ Fucknuts. _

“Okay guys,” the coach yelled, undeterred. “We’re gonna choose new teams. We’re too off balance here. Come on, huddle up.”

Miley, still with her cheek pressed against the wooden floor, waved off everyone who passed her to join the huddle. “Dead girl in the middle of the floor here, don’t mind me - would you like a shoe shine while I’m down here?”

“I’ll take one,” I smirked, kneeling down to hook my hands under her shoulders and heave her up. “You know, you could have moved. Or you know, hit the ball back as you’re supposed to.”

“I didn’t see it coming,” she muttered, gingerly touching her knee which was red and possibly starting to bruise. 

“You didn’t see the giant ball heading towards your face - jeez, I’m glad Oliver didn’t hear me say that.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly have your head in the game either - you looked like you were undressing Jenny with your eyes.” She whispered, prodding me in the chest with a grin and a wink. “Something going on there?”

I physically felt the blush on my chest, it swirled hot and heavy up my neck and throbbed in my cheeks. My palms were sweaty. My face, god, my face must have been lit up like a Christmas tree. 

“No, I wasn’t - I don’t… no. Shut up.”

“Is that your final answer?” She laughed and then her face dropped as she saw something over my shoulder. Turning, there was Vita, Hannah Montana’s publicist (more like publa _ bitch) _ at the window to the gym. She was waving Miley over with an urgent expression. “This doesn’t look good - cover for me?”

“What? How am I supposed to - and you’re already leaving.”

With that, Miley slipped out of the gym and disappeared with Vita. 

Quickly joining the huddle, Coach split us into more ‘dynamically able teams’ he called them. “Hey, where’d Stewart go? Truscott, where is she?”

“Uh, nurse. Yeah, she went to see the nurse. The whole ball to the face thing. Not used to it.”  _ I did not mean to add that bit on. Oops.  _

A few of the girls stifled immature laughter. Jenny winked at me. Was my mouth dry? Look away, Lilly, look away.

“Alright, alright, calm yourselves.” Coach said with a roll of his eyes as if he regretted ever deciding to become a teacher to hormonal teenagers. “This next round, I want everyone to pay attention. I don’t want anyone else needing to go to the nurse.”

Unsurprisingly, without Miley, the next half hour was completely accident free. Even in the locker room afterwards where Miley would usually trip over someone’s towel or yet again trap her finger in the rusty locker door. 

I pulled out my phone as I changed out of my gym gear. There was a message from Miley, her name on my phone followed by a string of embarrassing emojis. 

_ Sorry, Minor Hannah Emergency -- Beyonce has double pneumonia (is it bad that it makes me happy?) and she dropped out of the New York Music Awards and guess who gets to go in her place?! Vita’s taking me shopping because I have nothing to wear! Miles xxx _

“Yet again,” I muttered as I tapped out a reply. The tour was over, this was supposed to be where our normal lives didn’t have to take such a back seat and we could just be teenagers. Miley had promised a hundred promises and Hannah had broken them all; cancelled hang outs, sleepovers,  _ birthdays _ for ‘Hannah Emergencies.’

_ Please don’t forget about my birthday party. It’s tonight, btw. You know, in two hours x _

It was childish of me to send only one x instead of our standard three. I knew that she would notice, Miley always noticed the little things  _ obviously not the great big gay crush thing _ but you know, the little things. 

My phone vibrated within a few minutes.  _ I won’t, I promise. I’ll be there. Love you xxx! _

Yep, she definitely noticed. I couldn’t help but sigh into my open locker, debating whether or not just to slam the door shut against my head and strive for a concussion. Two hours was an awfully long time to worry about your hopes being ultimately dashed. 

“Hey, birthday girl, something interesting in that locker?”

Quickly pulling my face out, Jenny stood just inches away with an unreadable expression. 

“Is Miley going to be okay?” 

I stared at her wondering if she had read the message over my shoulder. 

“You know, balls to the face and everything?” 

“Oh, shit yeah. Sorry, completely zoned out. Yeah, she’ll be fine and ready to party in no time.”  _ I hope. _

“Cool, well, I guess I’ll see you later, birthday girl.” 

When did it become so hard to swallow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, the chapters do start getting longer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday time and someone is late.

Sixteen unanswered phone calls. Sixteen unreturned voicemails. 

_ Miles, where are you? _

_ Miles, you promised you’d be here.  _

_ Hello, you’ve reached your disappointed best friend. Please leave your name and number because you never answer your goddamn phone. _

_ Miley, I want to tell you i’m in love with you.  _

Okay, so I didn’t actually say that last one. But it’s what made my anxiety even worse. The whole pier was filled with people, the whole school was here and all my family and I had to smile and wave and thank them as they happily celebrated the most significant birthday of my young life. 

Mr S had even called me asking where she was and I told him about Vita showing up with another Hannah Emergency. “That woman! She can’t just pull Miley from school like that.” He said, clearly trying not to cuss. “She missed saying goodbye to Jackson. I swear I need to get GPS tracking on that girl.”

Already forty minutes late, Miley finally answered her phone. 

“Hey, Lilly. Whats up?”

“Are you kidding - Miley, we’ve been talking about this party since we were twelve. Where are you?”

“I’m almost there,” she promised. I could hear Vita in the background. I couldn’t even fathom a reply. With a sigh, I hung up the phone and headed into the throngs of the party in search of a distraction. There was supposed to be a smoothie bar somewhere. 

Somehow I managed to bump into Oliver in his waistcoat and tie. He scrubbed up pretty well for someone who once went without washing because Hannah Montana touched him. 

“Yo, your cake is gonna be  _ siiiiiiick!” _

“Oh god, what have you done?”

“Me? Nothing if you don’t like it. No involvement whatsoever.” He shrugged, his wild hair smoothed and straightened to a length that did nothing to hide his mischievous expression. “But if you do like it, it was all my idea.”

“Well that doesn’t fill me with dread.” I laughed and spotted the smoothie bar over his shoulder. 

“Hey, where’s Miles? I heard she took a ball to the face earlier.” Oliver said, barely containing his giggle.

“She’s  _ almost here _ , apparently.”

“Woah, what’s happening? Do I detect a tone?” Oliver didn’t even have to ask, the look on my face must have been enough. “Hannah. I guess she’s not coming, whisked away on an urgent basis like her life depends on it.”

“Who knows when it comes to Hannah.”

“Hey,” came a new voice and the pair of us turned. 

Jenny, her pink hair was mussed up and she was wearing a very  _ very  _ short black dress that did nothing to disguise her cleavage. Oliver’s chin practically made a thud on the floor. I can’t say mine was much further behind. 

“I heard I could get a smoothie somewhere around here.”

And somehow, that’s how I found myself at the top of the half-pipe next to Super-Hot-Jenny (her full name, obviously) with a berry smoothie. I was trying to show off, naturally. It’s not like I don’t have the skills. I’ve been skating for as long as I can remember. I am perfectly capable of consuming a beverage, getting some air and sticking the landing. However, just as I was in the air at the far side, the screaming started. 

It was distracting to say the least but I would have been fine if the small crowd at the railing - who had been admiring my sick skills - didn’t all suddenly congregate for a better view right where I intended to land.

I tried to rearrange myself so I wouldn’t hit anyone but instead, I lost my board completely, dropped my smoothie and sailed down the pipe on my bare legs, burning the skin right off in an excruciating scream of skin on metal. A millisecond after coming to a stop in the middle of the pipe, the purple berry smoothie landed right on top of me, covering me from head to toe. 

And as if it couldn’t get any worse, that’s when I heard the chanting. 

“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah!”

Everyone was surrounding her, tables abandoned, attractions coming to a standstill. The whole state of California looked to be congregating around Hannah Montana who had just wandered into my birthday party. Even my grandparents were up and trying to catch a glimpse of her. 

Jenny pulled me to my feet, the only person in the world it seemed that did not fawn over Hannah Montana to the detriment of all else. “Are you okay? Shit, that was a nasty looking fall.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, shaking out my arms and flicking purple smoothie all across the floor. God, my legs were on fire but I didn’t even look down to assess the damage.

I saw her. She had been lifted up onto strangers shoulders, shouting about how she was here to say happy birthday to her number one fan. The crowd ignored her and carried her towards the stage where the band was. Miley eventually spotted me and waved from her lofty prison. “She’s over there, over there. Take me over there to Lilly, birthday girl, Lilly.” 

They continued taking her towards the stage as if she had never spoken. I don’t know how I didn’t cry. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you!” Miley shouted over to me. 

My broken heart hurt more than the burns on my legs. The tears came and I needed to leave. I had to get out of here. It was too much. It was all ruined. Everything. Hannah had broken - no, destroyed - yet another promise.

“You will never ever make this up to me.” I shouted back to her, pushing through the crowd of people who had forgotten all about me. No one was paying attention to me, scuffed up and covered in purple smoothie but somehow, that was even more humiliating than if they pointed and laughed. 

A news helicopter appeared overhead, reacting quickly to a tip off. The crowd deposited Miley on the stage, now chanting for her to sing. I could hear her try and call me back but what was the point? This was Hannah’s party now.

My feet guided me as my eyes became too blurry to really see where I was going. Almost at the exit, a hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. For a second, I thought Miley - Hannah - had caught me and was about to try and make everything okay even as I could hear her start singing on stage. But it was just another knife in the heart, some weird guy with a notebook. 

“Birthday girl, right? Can you tell me, is Hannah Montana really forty-three years old? Does she lip-sync? Did she grow up in Nashville?”

“What, no?” I scoffed. “More like some tiny cornfield called Crowley Corners.”

It slipped out. It just slipped and I couldn’t take it back. Blinking back the blurring tears, it was clear he was a reporter. He scribbled in his notebook.  _ Shit. _

“Really? And how do you spell Crowley?”

Behind me, Hannah was calling out to me through the speakers. “Happy birthday, Lilly. We’ve got cake over there, come on, we’ve got cake. Lilly!” No one cared. They all jumped and danced and obsessed over the teen idol that had crashed someone’s birthday party. They’d forgot it was mine. Forgot me. 

I flicked my eyes back to the waiting reporter and with words I already knew I would regret, I told him that Crowley was spelt just like it sounds. Before I could spitefully tell him more, I marched out of the exit and started running along the pier towards the road. 

The tears came freely now and it made it hard to run. I mean, what was I going to do, run the six miles home? I would barely make it half way. At least, I made it to the beach and I flung myself down on the sand to let my heart break in the company of no one but the gulls that pecked at the litter. 

At least, that’s what I thought. 

“There you are. You’re pretty fast.” 

Looking up, there was Jenny, out of breath and red-faced. “You didn’t have to chase after me.”

“I know. But you’re upset.” She said simply and sat down beside me, running her hand through the sand. “You can’t ignore a crying girl.”

“Ha,” I laughed without humor. That’s exactly what just happened. An entire party of people, family even, ignored me because why should anyone else be able to have a moment of attention when Hannah Montana exists. 

“So, you know Hannah Montana?”

The name cut me like a blade. “If you’re after an autograph, head back to the party. I’m sure she’ll accommodate.”

“That’s not what I’m… I think she’s a bit of a dick, to be fair.” I looked up then, how could I not? Jenny smirked and gestured with her hands at her black dress complete with laced skulls that I hadn’t noticed before. “She’s not exactly my type of music. A little too… I don’t really know how to say it other than ‘generic prissy pop’.”

I burst out laughing then. God, that was refreshing. I loved Hannah, of course I did, I was full-on obsessed with her before I knew she was Miley but being around Hannah and her fans so much can really wear a girl down. 

“I guess you’re more into the screaming, heavy metal, sacrifice a goat type of music then?”

“Oh, you’re familiar with my favourite band?” She grinned and I felt my own stretch across my face. “Hey, there we go. I’ve been waiting to see if the birthday girl was going to smile today.”

I rubbed eyes wiping away the rouge tears. I felt gross. I could smell the smoothie that was soaked into my clothes already going rancid. I’d always been an ugly crier and could feel that my eyes were already red and swollen. 

“Thank you, for coming after me. For being nice.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m being selfish.”

“Oh?”

“I hadn’t had a chance to give you your birthday present yet. You can’t leave without it.”

I gave a small laugh. “You didn’t have to get me any-”

I was cut off by Jenny’s mouth on mine. Her lips were soft, polite even. As if she were waiting for an extravagant reaction. Heart hurting, I found my lips move of their own accord and then Jenny’s were moving in sync. It was warm and wetter than I imagined. And salty. 

“You’re crying.” She said as she pulled away, a blush on her cheeks. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No, no, it’s not you.  _ Shit _ , I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - I like you, I swear.”

“But you like someone else more,” she supplied sadly. She gave a shrug of her shoulders. “Look, it’s cool. I had my suspicions anyway but a girl has got to try. I mean, Miley isn’t even here. Oh don’t give me that look, I’m as gay as the day is long and I know full well that you’re pining after her. But I’ve also seen you looking at me and I thought, maybe, you might…”

Her confidence faded. 

“I suppose sorry doesn’t quite cut it, does it? I have been looking. Debating it. I just don’t think I’m ready to abandon her…”  _ Like she’s abandoned me. _

“Honestly, it’s cool. I’ve been there, you know, lusting after the straight girl. Apparently, it’s a rite of passage we all go through or at least, that’s what my aunt says and she got married to a woman over the summer. Hairdresser, hence the new do.” She smirked and bounced her pink hair. “But, if you think you can move past it, I might be around to help ease your broken heart.” 

She gave a smile then, confidence returned and pressed a kiss to my cheek. A heartbeat later, she was striding away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. I thought Jenny would be a cool dynamic. Only bloody routing for her.   
> Don't worry. That ain't happening.  
> More stuff to follow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilly's heart is hurtin'

It was almost eleven. Mom had already gone to bed, likely to lay in the darkness and worry about her daughter. She was more than a little surprised to find out I’d run off from my own party. She found me, still sniffling on the front porch and without a key. 

“Oh, honey,” she’d said as she took in my dishevelled appearance. The long walk had me sweaty. My hair stuck to me from where my helmet had been. My bare legs covered in painful, red friction burns from knee to ankle. The outfit she’d helped me pick out, spent too much of her hard-earned dollars on, was covered in gross purple berry flavoured splotches. It was probably going to stain. 

I’d started crying as soon as I saw her. Sobbing and apologising over and over about how I’d ruined everything that she’d helped me create. That I’d wasted the money she’d worked double and triple shifts to pay for. That I wasn’t adult enough to face my problems head on. 

“Oh sweetheart,” she had uttered, softly stroking my hair. The pet name and the affection are a rarity but one I allowed myself to be swallowed up in. “It’ll be okay, it will all be okay. I promise. It hurts, I know. It will keep hurting but I promise, one day, it won’t.”

That’s what she told me as she finally managed to peel me off of the couch and send me up to bed. It will hurt until it doesn’t and then everything will be okay. 

As I lay in bed, thinking of my worried mother laying in hers, I felt guilt chew at my stomach. I didn’t tell her everything, of course I didn’t tell her everything. I didn’t tell her how I stupidly, utterly and deeply  _ fucked _ I was by being in stupid love with my stupid best friend who continually prioritised a stupid popstar alter-ego. That somehow, in the midst of the humiliation and the heartbreak, I had my first kiss with a girl. A different girl. A  _ hot  _ girl. But it wasn’t the  _ right  _ girl. 

There was a knock at the bedroom window. Gentle, as if afraid they would wake the inhabitant. And then it came more urgently, repetitive. 

I jumped out of bed, grabbing the closest potential weapon and then scolded myself. What potential burglar, murderer or evil clown would knock before entering?

Barefoot, I padded across the room and unlocked the window. 

“Took your time, this is a precarious thing I’m doing here.” Oliver said, dangling from the window ledge having lost his footing from the ivy-covered trellis. “Give a guy a hand, would you?”

Grabbing the back of his shirt, I pulled him into the room where tumbled and lay flat on his back against the carpet. He panted, his face as white as a sheet. 

“That was not fun. I will not be doing that again.”

“You do know I have a front door, right?” I managed to laugh, prodding him with my foot. 

“I was trying to avoid your mom and you haven’t been answering your phone.”

“Oh,” I said, realising he had likely been trying to contact me for hours. “Sorry. I put my phone on silent and ignored it. Miley wouldn’t stop calling me.”

“Yeah, I know. She called me after every time you didn’t answer. She’s a mess, Lilly.”

“Is she now?” A small part of me was pleased. And then I had something else to feel guilty about. 

“Yeah, she’s real torn up about crashing the party. She’s been wanting to explain herself.” Oliver made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes to tuck his legs under himself. “Have you seen any of her messages?”

“No,” I told him, taking a spot next to him on the bed and pulling a pillow to my chest. “I don’t want to speak to her right now.”

“Lil, pal, she has never been so sorry. She doesn’t know what to do with herself knowing you’re mad at her. She said that there’s some british reporter that’s been stalking Hannah, following her around town. He followed them all the way to the pier - she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t get out of the car as anyone other than Hannah without exposing her secret.”

I debated it for a moment. Even more guilt swirling in my stomach as I remembered the reporter who had caught me, remembering the accent, remembering what she had told him. The guilt churned into my stomach and threatened to make me sick. What have I done? Nope, can’t think about that. Let’s be angry again. “So that’s the only option she had? Turn up at my party as Hannah?” 

“Yeah, they couldn’t shake him off.”

“No, nuh-uh. Miley is the queen of ridiculous plans. How many extravagant schemes of hers have we gone through. There would have been another option, Hannah could have disappeared somehow and Miley could have made it to my party as herself. No, nuh-uh, not good enough.”

Oliver tugged at his too-long hair, pulling what looked like crumbs out of it and flicking them towards the waste-paper basket. “Cake,” he shrugged noncommittally. “Rico blew it up. Actually blew it up. Told you I had nothing to do with it.”

“Damn, I don’t even get any cake, do I? This birthday was even worse than I imagined.”

“You’re welcome to pick some out of my hair, pretty sure I have some in my socks too. It got  _ everywhere. _ ” He widened his eyes with suggestion and then his mouth widened too, a grin he couldn’t prevent, one that was contagious.

As I replicated his smile, he put an arm around me and held me. My head found a comfortable spot between his shoulder and neck. He was warm and I could smell his aftershave. “You can always make me laugh, Ol.”

“They don’t call me Smokin’ Oken for nothin’, Lils. Okay, fine, I can hear you rolling your eyes. No one calls me that, I know. But if you say it enough, maybe other people will and those shirts I had embroidered won’t be a colossal waste of money.”

I laughed again, I couldn’t help it. Oliver could always do this, light up the darkest room. He was a royal pain in the ass most of the time, but also the sweetest and most empathetic person I knew. He doesn’t get the credit he deserves. 

Oliver rocked back on his legs a little. “So, are you going to tell me why this latest Hannah Emergency has hurt you more than usual. It’s not the first birthday she’s fucked up.”

“I love her, Ol.” I admitted quietly. Oliver had known I liked girls since we were seven. He was the first person I had ever told and he promised to take the secret to his grave until I was ready to be open about it. His arms tightened around me and I felt him press a kiss to my temple. 

“Oh, my poor little gay.”

“Hey,” I gave him a playful slap to the stomach. 

“Careful, you’ll break your hand on these abs. Nah, in all seriousness, Lil - you’ve got yourself a predicament, I’ll give you that. But Miley doesn’t know that, she won’t know why it’s so hard.”

I scoffed. “Even as my best friend, she should know it’s a big deal. But this, god, Oliver I was going to tell her. I’d worked myself up over it. I needed to know if I had a shot or not because I am so sick of pining.”

“So tell her.”

“I can’t tell her now. I had the whole thing planned out for after the party and we would -”

“Lil, that opportunity, whatever you had planned out… it’s gone. Right now, your best friend thinks she’s hurt you but she has no idea that she broke your heart. You say you wanted her to know, so go tell her. Go shout at her. Even if she doesn’t, you know, feel that way - at least you got to shout at her and get that rage out. Saves punching walls.”

“Ugh, not now, maybe tomorrow.”

“Lil, you haven’t got tomorrow. She’s got those award things. That’s why she’s been so desperate to get hold of you, she has a flight in the morning straight to New York. Do you really want this argument to wait over the weekend while she’s in another state and you’re stuck in a state of not knowing?”

I didn’t, of course I didn’t. But what was I supposed to do, run out into the night and rush to her balcony, throw pebbles at her window like some twisted Romeo and Juliet. No. If she were that torn up about what had happened, it would have been her knocking at my window, not Oliver delivering her cowardly messages. 

I shook my head. 

“I can’t. Not tonight anyway. It will have to wait.”

“At least answer your messages to her, let her know you’ll talk when she comes back - you’ll only hate yourself for torturing her.”

I screwed up my face in annoyance at his wise words. “I hate that you know me so well.” 

Underneath the bed, where my phone ended up when I threw it, I fished around for it. My hands brushed against my journal, an old sock and oh, there it is. I pulled it out and marvelled at the number of missed calls and text messages that had accumulated. Not reading them, I blasted off a quick text to Miley. 

**Enjoy New York. We’ll talk when you get back.**

I didn’t put any x’s. I might be trying to be brave, to be the bigger person but my heart was still in splinters. She didn’t deserve any x’s just yet. 

I started removing the notifications when I spotted a news alert for “Lola Luftnagle”, my own alter-ego. I clicked on the notification, opening the webpage. 

“Huh.”

“What is it?” Oliver asked, peering at my phone screen. 

“Hannah Montana had a fight with Tyra Banks over some shoes she was trying to buy for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It'll hurt until it doesn't." - lockdown wisdom, June 2020


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miley keeps on texting about some boy and then thinks she can ask a favour? Rude.

The weekend came and went but Miley wasn’t coming home for their promised talk. 

According to the new messages that were almost perpetually coming through, Miley's dad had kidnapped her and taken her back to Tennessee for her Grandma Ruby’s birthday and a  _ Hannah Detox.  _

Miley’s messages had been filled with anger at her father, at the sheer audacity that he and Jackson thought she needed time away from Hannah, that they had cancelled her appearance at the New York Music Awards. 

I hadn’t replied, hadn’t told her that I thought the option of two weeks purely Hannah-free sounded like a goddamn dream. But the messages kept on coming, reply or no reply. 

Apparently, she’d stormed off in the middle of nowhere and found her old horse Blue Jeans in a nearby field. I remembered the photos of Blue Jeans, how Miley would tell stories about the horse she grew up adoring. But now, she cursed the horse that had chewed up her wig and that she had fallen from. 

I stopped reading the messages when she mentioned Travis Brody, a boy she was in first-grade with and who had apparently become rather handsome. He’d told her about the huge crush he had on her.  _ Some people were clearly able to do that _ . 

It made me feel sick. Afterwards, I had Oliver read my messages and give me the barest of details. I was a sucker, I knew I was. I could have just ignored them and said that she should enjoy her Hannah Detox and that I would talk to her in two weeks when she came back, hopefully, as a new and improved  _ Miley _ . 

Miley had been in Crowley Corners barely a day and she was already gushing about a boy. About how she could see every muscle when his shirt got wet in the creek. How he had such a nice smile. About how he was working for her Grandma over the summer and they were rebuilding the chicken coop together and how he was so sweet and nice and blah blah blah. 

“I get the feeling you're not a big Travis fan.” Oliver chuckled as he skimmed over the next persistent message from Miley. Even when she wasn’t getting anything in response, she was still desperate to tell me how awful Crowley Corners was, how her Dad wasn’t listening to her, how the British reporter guy had managed to follow her and how she and her grandmother had sent him a wild goose chase with lies about the Montana’s living nearby. 

_ He found her because of me. He knew about Crowley Corners, because of me.  _ That vomit-inducing guilt made another wild reappearance. Quick, distraction. “Well, she talks about Travis like he’s the only redeeming factor about being back home. You know as well as I do all the stories from Crowley Corners. She loved that place.”

“Yeah, I know. But she doesn’t go back any more, does she? Not if she can help it.” He scrolled through the messages again. 

“It reminds her of her mom,” I told him. “Miley told me a while back. That’s why she tries to avoid the place; her grandma hasn’t even redecorated her mom’s bedroom. Too many memories.”

“Shit, that’s rough. I can’t really blame her for not wanting to be there.”

“Yeah but her biggest peeve is the lack of a  _ mall _ . That is Hannah talking right there, not Miley.”

By the time a week rolled around, I still hadn’t replied to any of Miley’s messages. I’d tried to distract myself from the whole situation. I’d been to the beach and I went surfing. I’d seen Jenny at the beach, clad in a black and blue swimsuit and I’d smiled and waved and hopefully, subtly, ran away. I’d even trekked to the Mall with my mom to help her pick an outfit for a date and I didn’t even complain. Progress. 

Still, Oliver thought I was being childish, and maybe I was but at the end of the day, Miley had stopped trying to apologise in her messages or even ask how I was. All the messages were updates either about how terribly she missed some Hannah thing, occasionally a jibe at Jackson who had a job in a local petting zoo type thing where he kept getting bitten by various creatures, or to go on and on and on about stupid Travis Brody. 

“‘ _ Stupid Travis Brody? _ ’ Lilly, you’ve got to sort yourself out.” Oliver rolled his eyes at me. We’d met up at Rico’s for burgers and for Oliver to read the past few days of unopened messages. “You’re not messaging her back. What else is she supposed to do in a one sided conversation. You’re not giving her anything to respond to but she’s clearly desperate to talk to you, that’s why you’re getting a run down of her day every night.”

“Yeah, I know, but I don't have to like the guy. Okay?”

“No, you don’t. But you can’t get pissy just because she’s building a chicken coop hundreds of miles away with him and not you because you haven’t told her how you feel. You were the damn chicken.”

“Shut up,” I said, flinging my burger wrapper at him. A piece of melted cheese lodged in his hair and he scowled. “Read the next message, come on.”

“I am doing you a huge favour, Lil, but this needs sorting out.”

“I know, I know. I’m being juvenile and petty, I know. It’ll hurt until it doesn’t.”

“What?”

“Nevermind, just read me the next lot and skip the muscular boy parts.”

“Aye, Captain,” he said with a salute. I sipped at my soda while watching him read, his eyes skimming over the latest lengthy message from Miley. His eyes went wide at a section and then quickly moved on. 

“What? What was that?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. I gave him a kick. “You said you didn’t want to know about muscular boy parts. Like, the kind where she sees the actual muscular boy parts.”

“She what?” My heart sank. I felt nauseous. 

“No, not  _ that. _ He took his shirt off at the creek okay. Apparently, he’s ‘delectable.’”

“I’m going to throw up.”

“You asked!” He said with a shake of his head. “Oh, there’s some kind of musical fundraiser night they’re throwing to raise money to ‘Save Crowley Meadows’ from that guy who wants to build on the land. Apparently, no Hannah allowed and she seems okay with it. To just watch. Uh, next message. Oh, apparently the night went well. Mr S did a song and apparently there's some foreman woman flirting with him. And Trav- nope, skip that part, hang on. Jeeze, she’s rambling about him, hang on.”

The burger suddenly felt stale in my mouth and I had to wash it down with the soda. 

“Oh, looks like she ended up on stage and sang ‘Hoedown Throwdown’.... I don’t know that one but she said she’ll show you the routine for it. Cool cool. Uh, let’s see. Oh shit, the guy building the Mall turned up and put a spanner in the works - he threatened that they’d never raise enough money to stop him and, sorry but  _ Travis _ said that Miley knew Hannah Montana.”

“He what?”

“Oh, that was a few messages ago. I didn’t tell you that bit. Miley told him she knew Hannah, surfing accident or something.”

“Miley can’t even surf.”

“Maybe where the accident came in. I don’t know and she clearly doesn’t know considering it’s a giant lie, Lil. But anyway…” He skimmed down the rest of the message. “Oh, holy fiery shitballs. You’re not going to like this.”

“What is it? Tell me.”

Instead, he handed me back my phone and pointed where I should read. 

“She wants me to what?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, these chapter lengths are gon' get craaazy


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilly gets an early flight to Crowley Corners. Feelings are out on the table. Gay train is in the station.

I had to grow a spine and start reading my own messages. And responding to them. I had to. It was either that or let Miley fall completely flat on her face and as much as that might be enjoyable for a few blissful moments, Oliver reassured me that I would never recover from such a betrayal. 

So here I was, hot and itchy under a Hannah wig. The Hannah Closet had everything I needed to mock up the ruse and I packed everything Miley had asked for and made sure it was loaded safely onto the private jet. The excitement of the jet did not last long as Vita, the publabitch, was to be my accompanying passenger. I can’t complain too much as Vita barely spoke to me the whole way. 

It was only as our luggage was decanted into the awaiting white limo when we touched down in Tennessee that she seemed to acknowledge my existence. 

“Have you heard from Hannah yet, Luna?” Vita asked, not looking up from her Blackberry as the limo took off.

“It’s Lilly. And her name is Miley.”

“Uh-huh, have you heard from her?” 

I looked down at my phone which was filled with excited thank yous and emoji filled messages from Miley. 

“Nope, not a word.”

Crowley Corners wasn’t too long a drive from the airport but it was a lot larger than how Miley had described it. Even as they passed the welcoming sign, there were miles and miles of lush, green fields before they ever saw a hint of the town. Vita rolled up the windows, screwing up her nose at the scent but quickly blaming her allergies when the driver pointed out his old family farm house. 

But when we hit the town, we certainly knew about it. This charitable Hannah Montana concert must have been the biggest news the town had ever heard. There were posters being put up everywhere, children waiting at the side of the road with hand painted signs. With encouragement (“For god’s sake, wave at them. This is great publicity for Hannah.”) from Vita, I put my hand out of the window and waved.

“Jeez, are they actually chasing the limo?” I exclaimed, turning in my seat to watch the small crowd sprinting down the street after them. 

“You sound surprised. Hannah is a superstar. Of course they’re chasing the limo. I thought you were her friend.”

Anger burned in my stomach, venom on my tongue but somehow, I managed to restrain myself as the driver spoke again to tell us we were only ten minutes out. 

He was right, within ten minutes of escaping the main town, we were pulling onto a dirt track that led up to the large white farmhouse I’d seen in a few photos in Miley’s Malibu home. 

The limo hadn’t even come to a full stop when Miley rushed out of the house and flung open the limo door. 

“You’re here,” she breathed, a smile on her face. “I didn’t think you'd actually come.”

I climbed out of the limo as gracefully as I could with the short skirt and Miley immediately pulled me into a hug. There was no choice in the matter. No awkward and hesitant greeting that I had worried myself over having ignored her for a week. Instead, I was in her arms and a part of me wanted to cry. To just sob and tell her how sorry I was for how I’d shut her out, for how petty and bitchy I had been. Another just wanted to savour the moment of my best friend holding me like nothing had gone wrong. And another that was still angry about what had happened. 

“Miles, I’m kinda pooped. Jet lag, y’know.” I lied, pulling out of the hug. I still felt too… too everything. It was too much, too complicated, too soon. But god, the smile fell from her face and I regretted saying anything at all. 

“Yeah, sure, totally. I um, I’ll show you the house.”

Vita quickly claimed Miley’s attention. “This place, honey, it’s so rustic. It’s marvellous. I am loving this whole ‘popstar saves hometown’ angle. It is genius. Not so genius that I forgive you for ditching me in New York and almost costing me my job but genius, nevertheless.”

“I’m sorry, Vita. I told you I had no choice.” Miley apologised for what sounded like the hundredth time. She dove into the trunk before anyone else had a chance to ask her anything, grabbed the Hannah suitcase and the couple of bags of my own things, swinging them over her shoulder and refusing help from the driver when he offered. 

“I know, honey. I’m going to be having words with your father,” she concluded. 

Miley’s Grandma came up and introduced herself, I recognised her from photos. She smiled when she took my hand and welcomed me to her home. She called me Hannah with a subtle wink and told me how she’s been simply dying to meet _Miley’s best friend_. Grandma Ruby was so warm and friendly that I think it would have been impossible for anyone not to like her. “I’m sure we’ll get to know each other better soon.” 

“Uh, Hannah?” Miley asked cautiously by the door, lumbered with luggage like some kind of strange strongman attempt. “You want me to show you up to your room?”

I nodded instead of speaking. My tongue felt too large in my mouth. It was ready to betray me in one way or another. Lying about jet lag was the last thing I was going to have my mouth betray me with, I would do everything I could to make sure of that. 

I followed Miley into the house and up the stairs. It wasn’t an easy route as she caught the suitcase against every banister chipping the varnish, the bags were scraping up the wall and putting lines in the wallpaper.

Thinking exactly what I wanted to say before I said it, I trusted my mouth to speak. “Youo know, I would have helped you carry something.”

“No,” Miley said as she reached the top, arms surely aching (and staircase needing redecorating). “A superstar never carries her own luggage.”

It was supposed to be a joke but it rubbed me the wrong way. I rolled my eyes behind her back and let her lead me into one of the bedrooms at the end of the landing. She slung the suitcase to one side where it rolled on it’s wheels until it thudded into the small closet and fell onto its side with all the grace that Miley had climbing the stairs. Untangling herself from the various straps of the bags, she deposited them just as carefully on the floor around her feet. 

I was so ready for some comfy clothes. I thought about the sweatpants that I’d brought with me, soft and comforting and perfect for lounging on the bed away from everyone. But first, I needed to at least take off this horrendously itchy wig. _Seriously, how does Miley wear this for so long?_ I pushed the door closed to any potential prying eyes and tugged the wig off. 

Before I could even toss it to one side, Miley pulled me into another tight hug and trapped the wig between our bodies. 

“I know you kind of hate me right now and I hate me too,” she said against my ear. “But I need you to know how sorry I am for what happened. I am so incredibly sorry. And I am so incredibly grateful that even after what happened, what I did, you still came to help me. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I was so scared when you didn’t talk to me. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

There were tears in her voice, choked back emotions that ebbed away at the anger I had been sitting on for so long. _Too long._ This time, I let myself succumb to the hug and I held tightly onto her, praying that my own apology came through my very muscles and seeped into her skin. I still didn’t quite trust myself to speak openly just yet. I knew that I would have to tell her, I wanted to tell her but right now, she was relaxing into my arms and just letting me hold her. IT made me feel worse, recognising how much she must have been hurting too - just like Oliver had tried to tell me - my own chickenshit self had created this giant, gay mess and I couln’t keep holding Miley accountable for it all.

“You could never lose me,” I told her, honestly. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”

“I swear, I will make everything okay again.”

_It will hurt until it doesn't and then everything will be okay again._

“Okay,” I agreed. My stupid tongue felt too big again and amongst the relief that came with Miley’s soft desperation at the thought of losing my friendship, I could feel the betrayal coming before I could stop it. “And while we’re apologising… I’m really sorry that I kind of might have spoken to that reporter guy.”

The hug stopped. She practically recoiled. “That was _you_? Lilly, how ldcould you?”

“Hey, I thought this was a whole ‘you’re sorry, I’m sorry’ moment. I know, I know - it was stupid and I didn’t really think about it because I was so mad and sad and trying to run away from the worst birthday party ever-”

I was in her arms again. She cut me off with another hug. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not mad. I promise, I’m not mad. Not anymore. We’ll work it out - there are worse things than a stalker reporter. But I promise, I will never have Hannah come between us again.”

It was a promise, a nice one. Miley made the best promises but it was Hannah who broke them. But, Miley had seemingly forgiven me me almost immediately for talking to the reporter who could potentially ruin everything. How could I even think of starting a fight about a promise she hadn’t even broken yet _._

“So, what do you wanna do now you’re in my hometown, girl?” Miley smirked and did a little excited dance. I couldn’t help but laugh. She was intoxicating, making it impossible to cling on to my anger and pain. “Are you still ‘jet lagged’ or do you want to come and explore and I’ll introduce you to everyone?”

“You saw right through the whole jet lagged thing, did ya?”

Miley scoffed. “Pur-lease, the worst lie you’ve ever told. Come on, let me show you the chicken coop I bult with my bare hands! Race ya!”

“Bare hands, eh?” I laughed but Miley was already spinning to get the door in a hurry. 

Her foot caught in one of the straps from the bags and she threw herself into the wall and slid down onto the floor in a heap. “Sweet niblets.” She cursed, her hand at her nose and checking for blood. She found nothing but wounded pride. 

“I am totally not laughing but are you okay?” I sniggered. “How come you seem to spend more time on the floor than on your feet.” I offered my hand to pull her up but apparently my comment didn’t go down too well. Miley flashed a smug grin, pulling down hard as she took my hand. My knees buckled with the force and brought me down to the floor beside her. 

It was a surprise to say the least. I landed heavily, my limbs sprawled. How we didn’t bang heads I have no idea. And then we were inches apart. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face, her playful grin melting away. 

Her lips were right there. 

I tried, oh lord, I tried not to look. I prayed to all the gays before me to help me show some restraint, to not desperately throw myself at those soft, soft lips. They were so close, achingly close. A hundred thousand times I had wondered what those lips would feel like, would taste like and in a cruel twist of fate, I was offered the opportunity at the worst of times. _Shit. I looked. I looked!_ Now I can’t look away from that mouth, oh that mouth. I could feel the blush heating me up, spreading across my entire body. All of a sudden, it was too hot. Sweltering. The walls were closing in. AllI could see was temptation. The room was too small, too hot, too Miley. 

She licked her lips. 

Oh god, she just licked her lips. _Contain the gay, you stupid fool._ With some innate strength I managed to tear my eyes away from those now glistening, pink, pillowy lips and found myself somewhere potentially even worse. 

Her eyes. 

Her eyes were locked on my mouth. It must have been what I had looked like; frustration and confusion wrinkling her brow, a flush of pink and red across her cheeks, an aching desire in eyes that had wide pupils.

There was a moment. Like a dream. A miniscule and likely imagined moment where I thought her eyes started to close, where the gap between us became smaller and smaller. 

The knock at the door startled us both out of whatever trance we had fallen into. I bolted to my feet just as Miley scrambled to hers and she cracked the top of her head under my chin. I bit the inside of my cheek and barely contained a yelp of pain, clasping my hands over my throbbing chin.

“Ow, _fuck,_ ” Miley hissed, rubbing at the top of her head. She so rarely swore that even amongst the confusion, the pain and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth, the curse did something to me that settled deep in my stomach. “Did you just bite me?!”

“You’re the one that hit me!” I hissed back, trying to run a soothing tongue over what felt like a giant missing chunk from my cheek. 

The knock at the door came again and a female voice followed. “Miley, you in there? It’s Lorelai. I was hoping I could come speak to you and Hannah for a minute?”

I quickly found the wig and tossed it at Miley. “You do it, you be Hannah.”

She threw it back. “I can’t be Hannah, I have to be Miley right now. She wants to talk to _both_ of us.” 

“No, I can’t do it. This isn’t waving from a limo, Miley.” I found it was remarkably hard to shout-whisper. “I can’t actually _talk_ to people. I’ll blow it.”

“Miley?” Loreli called impatiently with another knock at the door. “It’s kind of important.”

“Just a minute.” Miley yelled and then gave me a strange look. “Sorry, Lil.”

With that, she tackled me onto the bed. It was not smooth. It wasn’t even remotely sexy as she dragged my head onto the pillow and promptly covered my face with a towel. 

“What in the sweet hell are you doing?” I asked, pulling off the towel. She was flying around the room, setting up her iPod with some strange instrumental music I was highly surprised she even had. 

“Saving our asses, just be quiet.” She hissed, clearly concocting another extravagant plan and her hand forced the towel back over my face. “Come in.”

Lorelai walked softly. That’s all I could tell about the interrupting guest as I lay under the towel. It was stuffy and a little hard to breathe. Somehow that was a benefit as Miley panicked and went along with my jet lag from earlier and my lack of easy breathing meant I could control the nervous laughter from escaping. Apparently, Hannah only flew west to east and gained time when flying, she was getting younger with every flight. Jeeze, it was a terrible plan but somehow, Lorelai bought it. 

“Uh, hi Hannah, I’m so pleased to meet you and we are all so grateful that you came.” She had quite a nice voice, southern and sweet as she elongated ‘Hannah.’

There were nails digging into my leg, a clear indication from Miley to keep my mouth shut. I offered a silent wave. The towel was getting too hot now from the ;of my breath condensing in the fabric and it was getting a little too close to suffocation for my liking. 

“Miley, are you up there?” That was Mr S’s voice, it sounded like he was outside the house, his voice distant. 

Miley’s nails dug into my leg again. “ _He doesn’t know._ Uh, I mean, he doesn’t know Hannah’s arrived yet. I’ll go tell him.”

And that is when I heard Miley run from the room and leave me to slowly suffocate with a stranger. 

The bed depressed as Lorelai took a seat at the end of the bed. A hand gingerly touched my knee and then retracted. “I’m sorry, I know you’ve just gotten here and you just want to relax. You see, the Mayor wants to throw a big bash in your honour this evening. I’ve had lobsters and everything flown in, just for you. I hope they’re not too jet lagged, ha!”

Oh lord. This is how I’m going to die. I’m going to suffocate in this room, on this bed dressed as Hannah Montana with a stranger who not only believed the whole jet lag debacle but now thought she was being witty with a celebrity. If I die here, as Hannah, how are they going to explain that one? Would it go public? 

_Teen star dies after taking a world-round trip to travel just two hours away._

_Local hick suspected in suffocating teen idol before charity concert._

_Best friend Miley says she will sing ‘True Friend’ at popstar’s funeral._

“So is that a yes?”

She asked me a question. Shit. I nodded under the towel with no idea as to what I’d agreed to. Maybe something to do with the lobsters. Who even eats lobsters? They have their legs and eyes and everything. 

I heard the door fling open and heavy feet enter the room. “Lorelai, what on earth…”

Mr S. Shit. Shit. Double shit. 

“Shh, I think she’s falling asleep.” 

It was a worse stage whisper than when I was throwing the wig back and forth. Just leave damn it. I need to _breathe!_

“Poor thing, jet lagged.” Lorelai hummed thoughtfully. Her hand gently patted my leg again. “She only flies west to east.”

“What?” Mr S said. The bed depressed on the other side as he sat down beside Lorelai. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” You and me both, sir.

“It must be some celebrity thing,” Lorelai said. “She said yes, to the Mayor’s dinner. It was my job to get her there and she is coming.”

_Oh, that’s what I was agreeing to? Had she really been talking about that for that long? Whatever. Not my problem._

“That’s great,” said Mr S who also reached to pat my knee. I knew it was him due to the larger hand and the slight force with which he did it. Not painful. Just pressure. Oops, maybe shouldn’t have agreed to anything. 

“You’re going, aren’t you? To the dinner?” Lorelai asked Mr S softly. 

“Well, I don’t know. Is this you asking?”

Vomit. I’m going to vomit. I’m going to suffocate and vomit and choke to death while Mr S _flirts_ on my very nearly almost deathbed. 

“I think it might be.”

“Well, this is me accepting.” 

The bed started to move in a way that only meant they were leaning in towards each other. This is it, this is totally the end. Oh, here it comes. 

I stifled the urge to vomit with a cough that turned into a snore. You want me to be asleep bitch, here it comes. Hang around and I’ll have a nightmare just to kick you in the face. 

“Maybe we should leave her be,” Mr S stumbled to say. Suddenly the bed was free as they both abruptly stood. “We’ll continue this conversation downstairs, shall we? I think there’s still some cake downstairs.”

“Yeah, yeah. Wow, is it hot in here? It’s a little stuffy, don’t you think. I think I’ll open a window. I don’t want her sleeping in a stuffy room.”

I heard her move across the room, creak open the window and a few seconds later, the bedroom door clicked closed. 

Bolting upright, I threw off the towel and gasped for breath. A breath quickly stolen by the sight of Jackson’s terrified face at the window. It was only for a few seconds and he disappeared from view. A loud crash soon followed. 

I leapt from the bed and looked out the window to find Jackson had fallen from a ladder into the middle of the squash patch. In fact, he was wearing one. Miley was struggling to pull him to his feet with the extra weight of the giant squash on his head. Torn between laughing and genuinely trying to help her brother meant that he fell over, a lot. What was it with this family, can genes really pass on _clumsy?_

Wait, why am I just standing here and watching. I’m free. 

In a hasty juvenile act, I stuffed pillows under the bedding and left the Hannah wig in place as if she had her back to the door should anyone come in. I finally got to peel off Hannah's clothes and I started digging in the bags for something more comfortable. Clearly, unlike the pillow-Hannah, I wouldn’t be lounging in bed so I bypassed the sweatpants and grabbed a pair of off white pants and a shirt. 

By the time I’d abandoned my shoddy set up of a sleeping popstar and escaped the house, Miley and Jackson were gone. 

“You did what?!” came a loud voice from inside the kitchen. 

“I swear I didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened,” came Jackson’s profuse apologies in response. Well, I found one of them. “Miley was supposed to be holding the ladder. I can’t be held accountable. She’s the one that ran off so she wouldn’t get in trouble for squishing your squashes.”

“Boy, you better understand that you’re _both_ in trouble when she comes back.” 

So, where would Miley run to? She certainly wasn’t going to hang around the squash patch. I jogged around the side of the house and the barn came into view and what could only be the new chicken coop that she had built with her _bare hands._ It was as good a place to start as any and so I headed over, grateful to be out of those wedges and into soft, comfortable sneakers on the uneven ground. 

The chicken coop didn’t look too bad close up. It might even I think it might even survive a heavy rain, I smirked to myself and ran my hand along the new wooden window. It was smooth under my fingers and remnant sawdust clungu to my fingertips. Who am I kidding, this is far better than what I had pictured to say Miley had been involved in its construction. There weren’t even any scorch marks. Not obvious ones anyway. 

“Admiring my handiwork?”

I turned and Miley was standing at the barn door. Her hands were deep into the pockets of her grey hoodie. She almost looked humble. 

“It’s pretty good. I didn’t realise you were an aspiring architect. I know that I certainly would never let you lose with a power tool.”

“I didn’t handle any tools. Well, I did to start with but Travis took them off me pretty quickly when I almost - hey, what’s that look for?”

I baulked. I must have forgotten myself and showed my distaste for Travis on my face like I would when I was with Oliver. How do I recover from that? A brief thought of blaming the jet lag threatened to spill from my lips but I bit it back. Worst lie ever. Come on Lil, just be honest. What’s the worst that can happen?

“I don’t like him, okay.”

“You’ve never even met the guy.” Miley countered defensively. 

“So? You can dislike people without knowing them. That’s a perfectly normal thing.”

Miley sighed and nodded into the barn, indicating me to follow her as she disappeared inside. I jogged in behind her and she pulled the great door closed. 

“Is this where you murder me?” I offered weakly, taking in the smell of horses and warm hay. Chickens ran riot around our feet, clearly expecting food. 

“No, this is where we figure out what's going on.”

I swallowed and immediately felt the walls closing in again. 

Miley sat down on one of the hay bales and dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know what happened back there, you know, before Lorelai came in. It was weird, right?”

“Super weird,” I agreed, sliding down to the floor with my back against the wooden slats of an empty stable. _What’s super weird is that it actually happened and I clearly didn’t imagine it._

“So, it wasn't just me?”

“Miley, I’m… Jeez.” I took a deep breath, fighting the fear that swirled in my stomach. Anxiety crawled into my throat. _Be brave, be gay, be cool._

“Lil?”

“Okay, I’m okay. I just need to be less cryptic. But first, let me get this out now or I never will.” Surprisingly, Miley sat back and waited patiently. I took another breath in hopes of steadying my nerves. “I like you. I _like you_ like you.”

I quickly looked down at my feet and the stray chicken that was pecking at my shoelace. I couldn’t look at Miley’s reaction if I wanted to be able to function. 

“I know we’ve already apologised for everything. For my birthday. But, as Oliver told me, you don’t really know why it hurt so much. You see, I’d planned to tell you, y’know, that I liked you and everything, after the party. Practically scripted it. You see, I just needed for you to know so I could try and get over you. That’s why I was so horrible and I ignored you for so long afterwards. Hannah didn’t just ruin the party… she kinda broke my heart and I didn’t know how to cope so I shut you out. And then all your messages were about this boy who was handsome and wonderful and, well, not me.”

I still didn’t look up from my now destroyed shoelace that was frayed into a thousand fibres thanks to the hen that clearly didn’t mind the angsty emotional atmosphere. My face felt warm and expectant tears were already burning my eyes, threatening a giant, embarrassing, ugly cry. 

“You want to get over me.”

_Or under you._

_Jeeze._ Even now, my hormonal lovesick brain tortured me. 

Her voice was soft. Sad almost. I dared to look up, ready for rejection. Instead, my heart squeezed. She was crying, slow tears running silently down her cheeks and making her eyes glisten. Certainly not an ugly crier. But it wasn’t with fear or disgust or anything, I don’t think. She just looked so sad. 

“I suppose. Kinda.” I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I wanted to reach for her, comfort her. I wanted to push myself off of the floor and run as far as I could. I wanted to scream and shout but I didn’t know what I would even say. So I looked at that sad face even as it pained me. 

“I thought you were already getting over me,” she said. Her sad voice had a bite to it. “With Jenny.”

I did not expect that. 

“What?”

“Don’t pretend, Lilly. I’ve seen how she looks at you, and sometimes, you look back at her. Why do you think I got hit in the face in gym class? I was watching the two of you. God, and then I saw her at your party, with you and she was all, she was all… _hot_.” She screwed up her face and spat the word out like she hated to admit it. “Next thing I hear is that you’ve ran off and you’re making out with her on the beach.” 

My cheeks burned. My first kiss with a girl wasn’t my own little secret. Someone had seen and they’d told Miley. Or did they tell Hannah? Who else knew? 

“Who told you?”

“Does it matter?” She almost yelled, standing up abruptly. The chickens ran away at the sudden movement, disappearing into the depths of the barn and away from the shouting. “I just think it’s funny that you say you like me and then in the next breath, you want to get over me and get with Jenny or something but then you, god, you look at me like you do. Like in the bedroom earlier. You can’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like, like you want me.” She was breathing hard now, tears more anger and frustration than sadness.“I’m so confused, Lilly. I don’t like Jenny, okay? Just like you don’t like Travis.”

_Just like you don’t like Travis._

I stood, facing Miley as she took shuddering breaths to try and calm herself. 

“It’s not fair. You can’t say you like me and then say you wanna be over me and then get jealous. It’s too hard. I don’t know what… I just don’t know.”

“Jenny kissed me. She kissed _me_ , okay? I wasn’t expecting it or asking for it. It just sort of happened.”

“Lilly, are you not listening to me? I really do not want a running commentary of you kissing her.”

“You’re not listening to me. I didn’t want to be kissing her. I wanted to be kissing you.”

Her eyes locked onto mine, searching. For what, I don’t know but all I could feel was my heart swelling in my chest as fear and anxiety turned into a sweet, sad desire. 

_I want to kiss you now._

I don’t know if I said it out loud. But surprise danced across Miley’s face in the seconds before the space between us closed. I can’t even remember moving. One second, I’m across from her and the next, I can feel my hand against her cheek, under her jaw, behind her neck. I’m drawing her in like I’m not entirely terrified, like I know what I’m doing and _fuck,_ everything was perfect. 

Her lips touched mine. Soft. Gentle. Unsure. 

My lips pressed against hers, unmoving. Semi-terrified. Semi-elated. 

Then I felt her relax, her whole body seemed to soften and she eased into it, her body stretching to close the distance. Her hands were on my hips and they squeezed. 

A soft, unsolicited noise of wanting vibrated at the back of my throat. Somehow, that small noise was the key to Miley’s complete undoing. Her hands were suddenly everywhere, her mouth opened against mine and _sweet lesbian goddesses, was that tongue?_ Oh, god. _It was._ Her tongue was sliding against mine in hot, open mouthed kisses that stole the breath from my very lungs. My heart was racing, beating so hard I could hear it throb in my ears. 

She backed me into a hay bale, the hard packed hay cushioning as I fell backwards into a sitting position and our lips broke apart. Not for long. Miley followed as if tied by an invisible string and moved her lips with mine again, climbing onto my lap with her legs deliciously on either side of me. Somehow I was brazen enough to slide my hands up her denim-clad thighs and felt her surprise and approval with a bite to my bottom lip. 

_Holy fuck. Holy homo fuck._

“I need to breathe a minute. I don’t have a popstar's lungs, remember.” I regretfully pulled away but I didn't want to be too far away. I clung to her, hands sliding from her thighs to the small of her back. I rested my forehead against her sternum and her arms simultaneously moved to wrap around my shoulders. I couldn’t help grinning, my heart still bursting against my ribcage. “So, that happened.”

She chuckled, low and husky in her throat. _Oh, do that again._ “Yes, it did.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“Me neither,” she agreed and pressed her face into the top of my head. I could feel her soft kisses. “Can we just stay here?” She whispered against my hair. 

“Where you go, I go.” 

“Cliche.” She teased but held me tighter still. 

We spent a few blissful minutes like that before we were brought back to reality by someone calling her name. _Is this the Land of Interuption? Jeeze._

“Miley, you in here?” It was a male voice. Young and Southern. From the way Miley froze against me, I knew full well who it was. _Travis._

Out of nowhere, Miley remembered how to move again and practically launched us both into the empty stable and in amongst the loose hay. I landed heavily on my elbow and hissed with the sudden pain. Hay surrounded us both, hot and itchy and as I inhaled, it became entirely obvious that it wasn’t clean. _Don’t gag, don’t gag, don’t gag._

I started to complain about nausea but Miley clamped her hand over my mouth and shook her head desperately. Her eyes were wide, scared almost. The barn door creaked open. 

“Smiley Miley?” Travis called in a tone where I could practically hear the grin on his face, the flash of his no-doubt perfect white teeth. 

I purposely made an exaggerated grimace at the use of the nickname but it went unnoticed by Miley. _Smiley Mile_ y _, really?_ Who are you? Her dad? _Laaaaame._

“I guess not.” Travis muttered to himself and I heard the barn door close again. 

It took a full five minutes for Miley to relax enough to take her hand from my face and sit back on her heels. 

“What am I doing?” She whispered, dropping her face into her hands. Her nails scraped at the flesh under her hairline. “I’m a complete fraud. Look at me, a week in my home town and I’m leading Travis on and then I’m hiding you -” She seemed to realise where they were. “- in the stable I was supposed to muck out this morning.”

_Don’t gag, don’t gag, don’t gag._

“It’s fine,” I lied, not daring to see how much manure was clinging to my clothes. There was plenty on Miley but she didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s not fine. It is so not fine, Lilly.” Miley clambered to her feet and paced, hands in her hair. The manure and hay that glued to her clothes sporadically, shifted into her hair with every frustrated swipe. I almost told her what she was doing but I knew from experience that you do not interrupt a pacing Mil if you valued your life.ey Nuh uh. Nope. 

“Sweet _fucking_ niblets,” she cursed, a rarity which meant she was really, really emotional. “God, Lilly. I’m not even gay.”

_Knife. Heart. Twist._

“You… you just had your tongue in my mouth. I did not imagine that.”

“No, I know. _God, I know_.”

“I think that might be a bit gay. Y'know, kissing girls.”

“Shut up. I don’t kiss girls.” Her hands covered her face in frustration again. At me. At herself. “Sorry. I mean I don’t kiss _girls._ I only kiss you. Kissed you.”

_You’re on past tense already, Lil. Get ready, get set, heartbreak._

“I like boys. I’ve always liked boys. It’s just you. I don’t know. Once I saw how Jenny looked at you… why wouldn’t I be jealous? You’re my best friend and she could steal you away but then, then it wasn’t just that. It was more than that but it can’t be more than that.” 

She sank back onto the floor in defeat. 

“Hannah Montana is not gay.”

“Are you kidding? That’s how you’re gonna justify this? Hannah Montana couldn’t possibly be queer and so you can’t be. Miley, she’s not real. She’s a character. She’s not you. You use her so you can still be you or have you forgotten that?”

“Don’t. Don’t shout at me like that. You sound like my dad.”

“Yeah, well he has a point.”

It took half a second for me to regret those words. To regret the venom with which I spat them. To regret their power that struck Miley square in the chest. 

It took just two seconds for Miley to break out into sobs. Another painful five seconds for her to be up, across the barn and throwing herself onto the back of the white horse that could only be Blue Jeans. 

It took too many seconds for me to speak again, to move, to chase. 

She was already out the barn and leaving the property, Blue Jeans galloping away down the track. 

“Oh, fucknuts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did I say about chapter lengths? Consistency is key, people. 
> 
> More lengthy stuff en route.
> 
> (FYI, I absolutely loathe 1st person so forgive me.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilly gets kidnapped, drenched, smug and heartbroken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This picks up right where we left off because I had to cut that chapter down somehow.

Disturbed by the sudden commotion of Miley escaping on Blue Jeans, the chickens were racing haphazardly around the barn. They were screeching. The screeching disturbed another horse, a brown one that stamped its feet and huffed angrily down its nostrils. 

I looked from the brown horse to the receding white one in the distance that was taking Miley further and further away from me. Nope. I am not getting on that horse and chasing her. Nope.  _ Not a chance.  _

I opened the stable door with a gentle hand outstretched. “Nice horse. Pretty horse. Lovely horse who won’t hurt me.”

_ What the fuck am I doing?  _

Okay. So horses are huge. He - I think it’s a he - oh, holy shit yep, definitely a he. Definitely shouldn’t have looked but definitely a he. Oh god. He’s so big -  _ tall! _ He’s so _ tall!  _ Who knew horses were the size of actual houses? Alrighty, it can’t be that hard considering Miley just leapt up and took off. Hmm, um, let’s see. If I climb up here…

The stable gate was easy to climb but precariously edging my leg out and over the brown beast’s back was not. He was wide too. And there was no saddle. “Hey, nice horse, fancy running away so I don’t have to do this whole romantic chase the girl down thing?” The horse didn’t move, instead he almost seemed to be impatiently waiting for me. “Okay, fine, be that way.”

Somehow, I found myself on top of a horse. A giant horse that made the chickens look ants from the height of his back. What am I doing? I gripped with my legs, wrapping my arms around his thick, strong neck as I practically laid across his back, too scared to try and sit up. 

“Okay. Um. Can we - how do we… go?”

The horse huffed. 

“Is that a no? Okay, that’s cool. Can’t say I didn’t try. I’ll just get back down now. Sorry for troubling you.” I told the horse as if he understood, desperate not to spook him. I stretched my leg back to reach for the side of the stable. “Ah shit, it’s harder getting off than I thought.”

Then the horse made a disgruntled noise and stamped his feet. I had to grip tightly to stop falling and I think I found the magic go button because suddenly, we were moving back out of the stable. Sensing the open barn door, the horse bolted and it was all I could do to hold on as he galloped away. 

I like to think I’m pretty fit. I enjoy gym class and I hold the record for the rope climb. I skate which obviously requires a certain level of physical prowess with muscle strength and balance. I surf regularly and love a windy day where you really have to fight to paddle out far enough. 

And yet. 

Holding onto a racing horse was proving to be a little too outside my realms of capability. 

The motion was not dissimilar to lying on a surfboard on a stormy sea, bouncing up and down as he ran and slamming my stomach hard on his hard back. I hung from his neck, my hands clasped around the opposite wrist in a desperate attempt to keep my grip like I was hanging from that gym rope again without a promise of a crash mat below. My thighs were burning with the effort of trying to clasp on around the horse’s rear end, like I’d run a gruelling marathon. 

It was most definitely not how you ride a horse. 

And as soon as this beast comes to a stop, I am never riding one again. Ever. 

Somehow, impossibly, this brown beast had followed the same trail as Miley and Blue Jeans. How did I realise that? 

_ We overtook her.  _

Yep, I raced past her as I clung for dear life and embarrassingly, I called out for her to save me as the beast kept on running. Miley blurring into the distance. At this rate, I’ll be back home in California by sunset. 

I could hear Miley calling to me and I think she was telling me how to bring the horse to a stop but all I could hear was the great beast huffing, the thud of his hooves, the slam of my body as I continued to bounce hard against his back.

Her voice was closer now and I could hear more galloping hooves. 

“Woah, woah, Doc, come on boy, woah,” Miley had managed to get beside us and was reaching over to the horse - Doc?! - and trying to calm him. “Come on, that’s it, woah Doc.”

He started to slow and then suddenly came to an abrupt stop. 

I slid from him, unable to hold on any longer. I landed with a  _ whump _ onto the hard earth. 

“Lilly, are you okay? Just a second, I’ll be right there.” Miley hopped down from Blue jeans and steered the horses to a patch of long grass where they started to graze without fear of them running further. Then she was at my side. “Are you okay?”

“I am never riding a horse ever again.”

Miley scoffed. “That wasn't riding a horse.”

“I am never being kidnapped by a horse ever again.” I corrected.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

I was sore and I’m pretty sure my stomach was going to be red-raw from being slammed so many times but no, I think I’d miraculously come out of this unscathed. “Physically, yes. Mentally scarred for life though.”

“Doc isn’t the easiest, still a little too wild - he was my mom’s horse and only she could really control him.”

“Oh, Miles. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I just got caught up in the moment with wanting to chase after you when you bolted. I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, you did. Don’t say you didn’t. I get it. I mean, that’s why I’m here instead of New York. I’ve let Hannah take over.” She took my hand and pulled me back up to my feet. I wobbled a little on stable ground but I was okay. “I guess I didn’t see it at first. I didn’t want to.”

“I shouldn’t have said it, I shouldn’t have hurt you like I did.”

“And I shouldn’t have hurt you. Or ran away… you know me. Slightest sign of trouble and I want to run away and hide.”

I pulled a hand through my hair and felt the remnant bits of hay and manure.  _ Gross.  _ I had a sudden and urgent desire to shower. It would take several bottles of shower gel to remove the essence of  _ stable _ from my body. 

“I’m sorry for how I’m reacting, you know, the whole gay thing.”

I squinted at her as the midday sun was behind her. It illuminated her like a halo, the sunlight bringing out the golden highlights in her hair. 

“This is so new to you,” I told her, my upset from before easing into understanding. “I shouldn’t be asking you to define your sexuality before you’ve even understood it yourself. I know I struggled with mine to begin with. I’m sorry for putting pressure on you.”

“I just… I don’t know if I am gay. I’ve never looked at other girls before, not like that. It’s only been you. Maybe I’m only gay for you. Is that a thing?”

“What, being a Lilsbian? I don’t think it is but I’m down for it,” I smirked and she gave me a small shove. “Nah, it’s cool. Honest. You take whatever time you need to figure it out and if you need me to move on, I’ll do what I can. Otherwise, I’ll wait. You’re my best friend first, always.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Miley smiled and pulled me into a soft hug. 

“Probably something terrible,” I laughed into her ear. She was so close, chest to chest. It was getting too much; now that I’d had a taste of her, it was too painful to reign it in. I pulled out of the hug and tapped her on the shoulder like a weird estranged family member. “Friends first, right? 

“Right,” she agreed, biting her lip as she realised that the hug had been too much for me. “Shall we head back? I think we both need a shower - separate showers. Oh god. This is going to be hard, isn’t it?”

“Only if you make me ride a horse back.” 

Grandma Ruby was not impressed when I got back to the house covered in manure, hay and horsehair. Miley had stayed back to put both horses back in the barn and quickly muck out the stable she was meant to do earlier. 

Grandma Ruby had been on the porch watering her many plants and stopped me going inside and tracking my dirty self through her house. 

“You stand there, Missy.” She said and disappeared around the back of the house. 

Waiting with sore limbs from my terrible ride with the horse from hell, I leant against the bird bath which promptly fell apart under my weight. 

“Are you  _ kidding me? _ ” 

Was clumsy contagious? Do you kiss a Stewart and suddenly get cursed or something? Oh god, do I have to kiss a frog? Wait. Wrong fairytale.

I quickly went about trying to get the satellite dish looking part to stick back on but seeing the discarded tools around, I think it might have been an unfinished job anyway.  _ Phew _ . I balanced the dish precariously on top and hoped no one would notice. 

Next thing I know, Grandma Ruby has returned with the hose with the intention to wash off as much of the dirt and grime before I could get inside to shower. I could have argued. I could have told her some lie to try and get out of it. But after the day I’d had (and my exceptionally poor lying skills), getting hosed down fully clothed in the garden wasn’t the worst thing to happen. 

Fifteen minutes later, teeth chattering and clothes dripping, Ruby rushed me up the stairs to the bathroom with some fresh towels. Apparently, Jackson had used up most of the hot water when he was washing all the squash out of his hair so I only had a few minutes of warmth before chilly water was all I had to rinse out my conditioner and scrub at my sore flesh with a cherry scented body wash. 

I had goose pimples as I hurried along the landing wrapped in my towel and into the bedroom. For a second, I almost screamed in fright but then realised that the shape under the duvet was my poor, undisturbed pillow-Hannah. Chuckling at myself, I pulled on some underwear and I finally got to dig out those grey sweatpants I’d been craving. 

I sat on the edge of the bed in a sports bra and sweatpants while I towel dried my hair and started brushing out the tangle of knots. I had my journal next to me, the pen discarded while I sorted out my mane. Tugging on a particularly hard knot, I thought about just cutting it out instead. 

There was the briefest of knocks on the door before it flung open. Towel discarded, I didn’t have a chance to cover myself before Miley, drenched from Ruby’s hose treatment, burst into the room. I quickly closed my journal, its pages filled with her. 

Whatever she was about to say was lost the second she saw me. Her eyes took it all in, I could feel it, the way she drank in my exposed skin. And there, she licked at her lips and I felt all that urgent desire and wanting return. Why on earth did I think we could be friends first? Miley, can’t you see - you’re so gay for me.  _ She’s so gay for me. _

“How’re you doing there, buddy?” I teased lightly, drawing her back into herself. 

She went red, fast. She tried to speak, bumbling and mumbling nonsense before she gave up and closed the door and retreated quickly into what would no doubt be, a welcomed cold shower. 

I couldn’t help but feel smug. We’d had a thousand sleepovers, spent long days in our bikinis at the beach, hell, we even changed next to each other in the locker rooms. She’d seen far more of me than this. Admittedly, we hadn’t previously been craving getting into each other's underwear, at least, not both of us anyway. I could feel my ego swell and I gave myself the once over in the floor-length mirror. Travis might be Southern muscle in wet t-shirts jumping in creeks and building chicken coops but could he render a girl speechless? I don’t think so.  _ Suck on that, Travis.  _

Fully dressed and with my journal hidden under the mattress like a typical teenager, I headed downstairs in search of a drink and found Mr S nursing a coffee at the kitchen table. 

“Hey bud, haven’t seen you for a while. It’s a fresh pot,” he said and nodded at the coffee machine. “So, how’d she manage to wrangle you here as Hannah after everything? I thought you two weren’t speaking.”

I busied myself looking for a mug, pouring a coffee and searching for cream while I tried to formulate a reasonable response. 

“She promised me an invitation to Angelina Jolie’s Christmas party. Who doesn’t want to party at Lara Croft’s house?!”

_ Nice.  _ Not too bad a lie if I do say so myself. Nice little addition with Lara Croft. Solid 10/10.

“Ah, that’d do it, I guess.” He laughed and pushed a plate with a half-eaten cake towards me. It was tall and dark with thick chocolate ganache. “It’s squash cake. I know, I made that face too - it’s good though, a little healthy tasting but good. You missed out on the squash cookies though.”

I cut myself a slice and it was surprisingly good. Chocolatey with a hint of vitamins. 

“So, how’re you holding up?” He gave me a look. “Lara Croft or not, I can’t imagine it was easy to forgive her.”

The cake suddenly felt like it had glued my mouth shut. It was a struggle to swallow it and I had to take a big gulp of coffee to force it down. “I’m okay, we’re working it out. She’s my best friend.”

“I don’t know what to do with her, with this whole Hannah thing. It’s worked all these years but, I feel like I’m losing my little girl.”

I nodded. “She’s trying, Mr S. She knows you’ve brought her here for the right reasons, she’ll figure it out in time.”

“You always were her biggest fan.”

I scoffed. “You have no idea.”

He smiled softly behind his coffee mug. “I have some idea.”

He winked at me then and I slumped onto the table, burying my head in my arms. “Does  _ everybody _ know I like her?”

He chuckled and reached out to touch my arm. “Don’t worry, bud. I’m sure Miley is oblivious.”

“Not anymore.”

“Huh. Well I’ll be.” He took another sip of his coffee and then seemed to think of something. “Dang flabbit, if she’s hurt your feelings because of any homophobic nonesense -”

“No, no, it’s not that. It  _ really _ isn’t that. She’s known that I’m gay for years and it’s never bothered her. I just… I think I’ve just confused her. I don’t think it’s ever crossed her mind… I should probably stop, I doubt she wants me to tell her dad all about the gay-confusion.”

“Maybe not bud, but I’m here for you too.”

“Thanks,” I smiled, feeling my heart swell. When the Stewart’s moved to California, Mr S with his long hair and thick accent, his weird-ass son and gorgeous daughter, I never thought I would be so intrinsically involved in their family. Half my time was spent at their house, in their company, sharing dinners, cheering over ball games on their big TV. Always welcome, Miley or no Miley. Mr S was the loving father figure I’d lost. And for a rare moment, I wondered where my actual dad was and if he ever thought about me. I so rarely thought about him but I hoped that he would be hurt knowing that a complete stranger had been nicer to me than he ever had. 

A few minutes later, Publabitch entered the kitchen and spotted the pair of us. She gave a forced smile and quickly departed and headed up the stairs. Mr S listened to the footsteps above and then shook his head. “That’s Vita in Miley’s room. No doubt telling her something I won’t approve of.” He put down his empty mug and stood. “I’m putting a stop to whatever it is before it’s too late.”

“Can I watch?” I laughed. He gave me a grin and pushed at my shoulder lightly as he passed but I followed anyway. Any chance to see Publabitch taken down a peg or two is worth it. 

Upstairs in the bedroom, Miley was still damp from her shower and she and Vita were choosing outfits excitedly. 

“What’s going on in here?” Mr S said. 

I peered around the side of him in the doorway. Catching my eye, Miley suddenly looked embarrassed and looked away. 

“Hannah here -” Vita started. 

“ _ Miley _ .” Mr S and I corrected at the same time. 

“Okay, Miley here has a date tonight with that handsome boy that’s working for Ruby. I’m helping her pick the perfect outfit.”

“A date?” I choked out just as Mr S echoed “Tonight?”

Miley still didn’t look at me. 

“Yes, apparently this tiny town has managed to expand its culinary repertoire with a quaint little Italian restaurant and we’ve managed to decide on this one,” she pointed to the dress hanging on the closet door. “That’s the one.”

“Yeah,” Mr S groaned, arms crossed. “It would be but she ain’t going.”

Miley looked up then, just as Vita started to protest on her behalf. 

“You promised Lorelai that Hannah would be the guest of honour at the Mayor’s big lobster hoo-hah tonight.”

“Actually, Lilly promised.” Miley defended quickly. 

“Actually,  _ Hannah  _ promised.” I countered. 

“Well, I promised Travis.” 

_ Knife. Heart. Twist. Again. _

Sure, let’s not break any promises to  _ Travis.  _ Why in the sweetest depths of hell would I agree to being friends first if that meant I’d opened up an opportunity for her to date that... that Adonis? Shit. That’s not an insult. Try harder, Truscott.

“You know what,” Mr S said as he held up his hands. “I’ll just leave it up to you. You do whatever you think is right.”

With that, he left the room and it took all my self control not to shout at him to come back. 

_ No, tell her she can’t date him.  _

_ No, tell her that she should be dating me. _

_ No, tell her that I should never have suggested friends first. It hurts too much. _

Instead, I remained silent and prayed no one else could hear my heart shattering in my chest. Vita said something but I wasn’t paying attention. The publabitch excused herself and left me alone with Miley. I turned to leave too but Miley caught my wrist. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know he was going to ask me out.”

“It’s cool. You’d be going anyway, y’know, without everything that happened today. That whole gay spanner in the works.”

“I need to figure out what I’m feeling, Lil. And maybe this is how I can do it, an experiment with a cute boy. But I’m going to need your help as horrible as it is for me to ask.”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “What’re friends for, eh? What do you need?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ridiculous scheme? Check.   
> Confused gays? Double check.  
> Health and safety risk assessment? ...uh.
> 
> It's date night and lobster night. I think we know how this plays out.

Yet another Miley scheme that was bound to go wrong but here I was, the supportive best friend helping her carry out her plan.  _ And trying so hard not to cry. _

The limo ride to the town hall in the early evening was painful. Miley was longingly looking out of the window in hopes of catching a glimpse of Travis, hating the fact that the limo took her somewhere she didn’t want to be.

Me? I was tearfully trying not to look at her. Her Hannah outfit for the evening was incredible, one of my favourite ever but it hurt too much to like her now. Before, when it was my little lesbian secret, I could rake in the vision that she is and save it away to pine alone, to think about alone… but now, my heart couldn’t take it. 

The cheering and chanting alerted us to where we were and a few seconds later, the limo pulled up outside the town hall. Hundreds of fans were lining up in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of Hannah, to beg for her autograph, to try and get a selfie with her. No doubt, among the throngs of people, Oswald the reporter was lurking. 

I followed the others into the building that I’d already visited earlier, begging Jackson to drive me into town with as little detail as possible. Surprisingly, he had agreed readily as he apparently needed to pick up some underwear that didn’t have crocodile teeth marks in it from work. Thankfully, he didn’t give any further details and I didn’t ask. So as he ran off into one of the stores, I headed into the town hall and broke into one of the store cupboards. Inside, I left Hannah’s make-up and wig box along with Miley’s outfit that Vita had dubbed ‘The One’, complete with brown cowboy boots. A part of me wanted to fail, to get caught and the plan be dashed before it even had a chance to start. There were cleaning products on the shelves. The dress could just  _ fall into bleach _ . Sighing, I left the cupboard without sabotage. 

The dinner was set up in a fancy room on the third floor. With a double door entrance, we entered a long formal room set up with a giant table for 24 guests. The table was humbly decorated but the tablecloth alone made it far fancier than anything I’d ever experienced (other than the occasional first class lounge on tour as Lola). My mom only had one tablecloth and that only came out at Christmas and even then, she had to strategically place table decorations to hide the years old stains and tears. 

We were greeted with fruity drinks on silver trays. I had managed to sneak one of the alcoholic ones but Mr S spotted me and with a stern look from him, I replaced it with one of the kid-friendly cocktails. He laughed when I stuck out my tongue at him. 

We met with our hosts, the Mayor and his wife. Vita made sure she got plenty of candids of Miley chatting with those two. Lorelai was introducing every one and I heard her ask Ruby and Mr S where Miley was. “Oh, she has East Coast West Nile disease,” Ruby told her with a lie worthy of yours truly. Yet again, Lorelai accepted the ridiculous lie like an utter fool. Mr S trailed after her like a lovesick puppy.

Jackson introduced me to a couple of the family members I’d missed back at the house. Cousin Derrick was an odd one and I prayed that my expression remained polite as I wiped my hand on my dress after shaking his. A little moister than what a normal sweaty palm should be. Apparently he could always be found with his ferret, Harlow. Jackson teased him about having to leave the ferret behind and Derrick simply nodded in response in a way I could only describe as shifty. He was definitely someone I planned to avoid for the rest of the night. 

Miley - Hannah - was taking the appropriate selfies with the right people and all seemed to be a fun affair. Lorelai was beaming. Caterers wandered around in their suits and ties with silver platters of appetisers. After tasting some strange, creamy substance served on a cracker, I started hovering around the caterers in hopes of getting more. Somehow, the terracotta looking cream tasted like smoky bacon and it was delicious. Another favoured a weird cheese that fizzed on my tongue and somehow, that was actually enjoyable.

An older lady who looked like she was some kind of political representative commented on my white dress and I smiled in thanks. It had been a last minute addition to my luggage, my mom always stressing that I should wear more dresses. And so, luckily, I had something relatively appropriate for a formal dinner and I paired it with a pair of Miley’s red heels which were a little too small and pinched but it was worth it when I saw the approval in her dark eyes. 

“Alright, can everybody please take their seats,” Lorelai called, clapping her hands together for attention. Even Lorelai managed to scrub up well, looking less country mechanic and more country club member. “Please find your name card and take your seat.”

I found my name card near the end, second from where ‘Hannah Montana - guest of honour’ would be at the head of the table. The card directly next to Hannah’s seat had Miley’s name on it but clearly, she would not be in attendance so I swapped mine and Miley’s cards around so I was next to Hannah. It left a nice little buffer of an empty seat so I didn’t have to sit next to a stranger. 

As everyone figured out where they were sitting and moved to take their seats, the Mayor started reading from cards with a prepared speech. “Let me just say that, honestly, to host someone of your talents, well, Miss Montana, Hannah if you will - your offer of a concert tomorrow to save Crowley Meadows from such a sad fate, well, our humble little corner of the world cannot thank you enough. And if there is ever anything, that myself or the good people of Crowely Corners can do for you, anything that you need, all you have to do is… where’d she go?”

Everyone span to find the seat at the end of the table empty. Even I felt my eyebrows raise in surprise. 

“Neat,” came her voice and we all turned to find her at the window. Surprise ebbed into distaste. There was a clear view from the window to the Italian where her date was waiting and I wished I’d managed to successfully sneak that alcoholic beverage. That would make this whole thing easier. “I just, uh, I needed to check on my fans.”

She opened the window and in came the continued chanting of “Hannah, Hannah” that this small town was quickly adapting to. 

“See. But what I really need,” she said, now plaiting her legs and awkwardly dancing towards her seat. “Is to go to the bathroom. I really need to go.”

Hannah started to jog from the room as all the guests watched incredulously. As she passed me, she grabbed my shoulder. “Lilly, come with me. Right now.”

An embarrassed blush spread to my cheeks as I hurried after her, eyes on me too. “You know girls, we always go to the bathroom together, am I right?”

Outside the room, I led her back down the staircase and showed her the store cupboard I had broken into and stored her bits and pieces. “Make up, clothes. It’s all in there.”

Hannah headed in with a smile of thanks and a quick change later, Miley exited with a “I'll be right back, cover for me. Remember the plan?”

“I’ll call you when it gets too suspicious you’re missing. Go. Just go.”

She almost ran down the stairs, out of the building through the side entrance with the revolving doors and across the street to Travis while I headed back up, nursing my broken heart. 

Inside, every single guest watched me enter alone. Even the caterers who were waiting for Hannah to return so they could start serving watched me enter. I felt the blush return with a hot abundance. Here comes a poorly thought lie.

“Hannah might be a while. Y’know how it is. Still adjusting to the food here.”

Jackson spat his drink back into his glass, quickly wiping his nose of the burning liquid. 

I was mortified on Hannah’s behalf and promptly sat down before I could start blaming Grandma Ruby’s squash cake or something. 

“In light of the… situation,” the Mayor started. “Let’s have the starter whilst we wait for her return. The soup won’t be able to stay hot for long.”

On cue, the caterers swooped in and placed a china bowl in front of me filled with a hot, thick soup. It smelt absolutely delicious and diving in, I realised how hungry I was. The squash cake from earlier and the few appetisers had barely touched the sides and now I was ravenous, asking for the bread basket to be passed down as I shoveled in the delicious, garlicky soup. 

I lost track of time as I focused solely on my soup and it was only as I mopped up the last dregs that I realised how Hannah’s absence had gone on too long.  _ Shit.  _ I subtly pulled out my phone under the table and pulled Miley’s contact up and pressed call. 

Across the street, I knew I would be cutting into a likely romantic conversation between the pair and felt awfully pleased with myself to be able to bring it to a halt from so far away. 

The now empty soup bowls were taken away and quickly replaced by gigantic red lobsters. Somehow, in a cruel twist of fate, this meant that my nice outfit had to be ruined by the plastic lobster bib adorned with a cartoon lobster that had the Mayor’s face poorly photoshopped onto it. Some might say it was quirky, others might say completely nuts. I shared a wry look with Jackson who was stifling his laugh behind his hand. 

“We’ll just give Hannah a few more minutes, we had these shipped in especially for her.” Lorelai suggested and pulled one of the caterers to her side and whispered in his ear. Quickly, everyone’s drinks were being refilled to kill time awaiting the popstar’s return. 

Everyone with full glasses and nothing else to do couldn’t help but sigh with relief when Hannah burst back into the room. Collapsing into her seat, completely unaware that she was the highlight of the room and suddenly found herself facing the beast of a lobster before her, significantly larger than everyone else's. 

“Woah.” The lobster before her clearly took her by surprise. One of the waiters helped get her into her matching bib. She stared down at it and then looked at me wearing the same thing. Her eyes were wide. 

“Now that our guest of honour has returned, dig in!” The Mayor announced and the table promptly started stabbing, prodding and cracking at their lobsters with practised ease. 

I hesitated, looking around the room for some kind of clue of how to eat it. Cousin Derrick managed to squirt lemon directly into his eye but everyone else was already munching away and proclaiming its deliciousness. 

I leaned over to Miley - Hannah - and stage-whispered. “How do they make it look so easy?”

She shook her head and glanced around. Vita seemed to be well versed and already had a section ready to eat, a pronged tool in her hand. I managed to crack off one of the legs pretty easy and it was the most unappetising thing I had ever done. Eager not to appear phased, I used the pronged tool that Vita had and started trying to work out the flesh from inside. 

“Surely, this should not be this difficult,” I breathed and then suddenly, from the buttery shell and the prodding, I lost my grip and the lobster leg went sailing up in the air and landed right on top of the Mayor’s wife’s head. I panicked but Mrs Mayor didn’t seem to notice, her perfectly combed updo clearly sporting so much hair-spray that the small thud from a lobster leg went unnoticed. Not by Miley though, she was sniggering at me and bumped her bare leg against mine under the table. I promptly dropped the pronged tool and it clashed against my plate. 

That did not go unnoticed and a few guests nearby scowled at the unpleasant interruption to their boring conversations. I muttered an apology. Miley only sniggered more and I felt her leg brush against mine again as if trying to make something else happen. I swallowed thickly.  _ Friends first, Truscott. Contain the gay, contain the gay! _

Miley, also unaccustomed to eating lobster, started promptly hammering the shell with one of the tools and just as I had, lost her grip thanks to the butter and it went sailing over her head behind her and splashed into the last of the soup as a waiter was taking it back to the kitchen. Garlicky soup splashed up into his face and had it been anyone other than Hannah Montana apologising to him profusely, he would have likely had a very different reaction. 

“So Hannah,” Lorelai said from the other end of the table by the Mayor. Mr S was seated next to her - oh yeah, this was a date for them! He scrubbed up pretty well with his stripy shirt and blazer, and he had clearly double conditioned those silky locks. “I’m sure you have lots of wonderful stories to tell.”

“Oh, not really,” Miley replied with a wave of her hand. Had I not been reeling from the skin contact before, I would have bumped against  _ her  _ leg to try and indicate that she needed to say  _ something. _ Everyone turned their attention to her expectantly. “I mean, there are just so many. But you know, I don’t want this evening to be all about me. It’s all about the town, isn’t it? That’s why I’m here. So, maybe someone from this lovely town should share a story. Everybody’s stories are important. Hey, Jackson, isn’t it?”

Jackson baulked and was actually trembling in his seat. Trembling or jumping or something. It was like that time Oliver put itching powder in Rico’s underwear, Jackson couldn’t seem to keep still.

“You’ve just started college, haven’t you? Why don’t you tell us about your classes?”

If he could, I think Jackson would have thrown the lobster at his sister but instead, he continued to wriggle as he spoke. “Oh, yeah, my classes. Uh, I really like -” A sudden squeaking came from Jackson and he clamped his hand across his chest. Grandma Ruby startled a little in the seat next to him, completely perplexed and irritated by whatever the hell her grandson was playing at. “I think my favourite part is, uh - woah - uh, Dad that, um aaahh, that your little boy is growing up into a man.”

At that, the wiggling stopped as Jackson grabbed between his legs in pain to the utter surprise and disdain of his grandmother beside him. 

“Uh, napkin. Dropped it.” Jackson snaked down from his seat and under the table. I heard him hissing ‘Harlow’ under the table. Hang on, the ferret?

I turned to Miley to see if she had a clue what was happening but her seat was empty. I span around the room but she was nowhere to be found. I didn’t even notice that she had left. Jackson popped back up to his seat with a guilty look on his face. Curious, I peered under the table and spotted Miley at the far end of the table, crawling.  _ Oh jeeze. _ I could see right up her dress, I could see her underwear. Flooding with all the gay desire my lttle lesbian horomones could produce, I quickly tried to sit up before i burst into rainbow flames but only went and cracked my head on the underside of the table. Surprisingly, the pain worked farf better than a cold shower.  _ Probably concussion. _

Wincing, I eased back out more carefully and saw the old lady across glaring at me. “Dropped my fork,” I offered and gingerly touched the sore spot on my head. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. The serving cart adorned with ornate cloths and vases filled with birds of paradise was slowly sliding towards the door. A foot stuck out the back, uncovered by the draping cloth. This was going to end terribly. 

The next forty minutes were a blur. Hannah’s repeated absences were obviously noticed and Mr S went to investigate where his daughter kept disappearing to. Jackson and Derrik were running around the room like children and then suddenly darted out of the room through the door Mr S had left open. Miley sent me a text that her dad was blocking her return to the building and I quickly managed to get him back upstairs saying Miley was back. Obviously, she wasn’t and so he left after her again with a grumble just as Miley, back as Hannah was running back into the room. 

The next time I looked, she was gone again and Mr S wasted no time chasing after her but lost sight of her as she jumped into the store cupboard to change. I found out that Derrick, unable to be apart from the ferret, had brought Harlow to the dinner in his pocket and it was now running loose somewhere. 

Then the mayor got involved in the search for Hannah, wondering why celebrities thought the world revolved around them. 

In fact, there was a lot of revolving going on as we all seemed to be taking several trips in and out to try and avoid one another or search for a lost ferret or like me, stand outside for some fresh air in hopes of avoiding Mr S cornering me for answers. In one hurried escape, Miley made it outside but was still dressed as Hannah and I ushered her back in quickly to change. 

Eventually, Mr S did manage to corner me and asked “What the Sam Heck is going on here?! Where is she?”

Just then, Miley, back as Hannah raced past us on the stairs and into the dining room. 

Mr S glared at me. “What is she playing at?”

I smiled meekly. “You know, celebrities, am I right?

“This conversation isn’t over. You and me, we’re not letting her leave that room again, okay?”

His voice was stern and I nodded, gladly taking up the opportunity to prevent another desperate attempt of Miley’s to be with Travis. I could hardly ignore a direct order, could I? This whole evening was a complete fucking nightmare. 

Returning to the room, Mr S and I took our seats as Hannah dabbed at the tablecloth with her napkin, apologising profusely to the woman who’s drink she had spilled. “Some club soda will take that right out. Let me go get some.”

“Sit!” Mr S shouted, standing with his hands outstretched. “That’s enough. No one is getting up from this table again for the rest of the evening. No one.”

Miley sank into her seat. 

Lorelai stood beside Mr S and awkwardly offered dessert. At her words, the caterers quickly wheeled out another serving cart that had a giant, white domed dessert decorated with raspberries and mint leaves. “You’ve all heard of the Baked Alaska, I give you the Tennessee Flambe.”

At that, the chef set the whole thing on fire like it wasn’t a drastic health and safety violation. I still wanted a giant slice of it though. That lobster, the little I’d managed to worm out of its shell, did not do anything to curb my appetite. Frankly a little disappointing.  _ Must be the jet lag. _

Everyone applauded the flames and despite the strangeness of clapping for fire, I joined in and impatiently waited for it to be sliced up and dished out. 

“Mr Mayor, I assume that you’d like to say a few final words?” Lorelia offered him the floor and she took her seat as the Mayor stood. 

“Yes, yes of course. You see, not many people know that the Tennessee Flambe was actually invented by-” He suddenly grunted and convulsed. He laughed awkwardly and then suddenly screamed. Miley’s hand grabbed mine at the table. I tore my eyes away from the screaming Mayor for a second to see that our hands were in fact joined and I wasn’t imagining it. Her eyes were solely focused on the Mayor and I thought maybe our joined hands were subsequent to an unconscious action. 

Then the Mayor caught my attention again as he  _ took off his pants. _ In front of everyone. The town mayor stood in his pastel briefs and danced urgently around. 

Suddenly, it became clear why as Harlow the ferret escaped the confines of the Mayor’s pants and ran down the table. The guests all jumped back in fear as if a dragon had suddenly appeared before them. 

Then the true mess started as some guests ran away with fear, others tried to capture Harlow and Grandma Ruby and Mr S sighed at the farce this evening had become. Someone bumped into the caterer who was carrying the flambe ready to be sliced and the whole tray of flaming desert slipped from his grasp and onto the table. 

That lovely tablecloth I had admired was set alight and those guests who were not already freaking out about the ferret leapt up in fear of the fire. Health and safety, what did I say.

Miley’s hand left mine as we both shot up from the table that had a quickly spreading fire. Mr S leapt into action and found a fire extinguisher, spraying the flames and the unfortunate guests on the other side of the table who lost their wigs in the gust. 

Fire extinguished, the pair rushed to replace their wigs as everyone started to notice. In their haste, they placed the other’s wig on by mistake and had to quickly rearrange themselves as if the whole room hadn’t seen the whole thing. 

I went to make a comment to Miley but yet again, she was gone. Turning, I saw the ends of blonde hair disappear through the door. Mr S spotted her too but before he could charge after her, I ran and held up my hands to him. “Let me talk to her. I’ve had enough of this too.”

He nodded and I hurried down the stairs. 

The store cupboard door was open and inside was a maid stocking up her cleaning cart. Thankfully, the maid was blocking Miley from diving in and making her quick change and subsequent exit.

“Mi-Hannah, wait up,” I called and joined her outside the cupboard. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think? I’m heading back out like we planned.”

I almost said her name again, her real name and bit it back. Catching the maid’s eye, I gave her a polite smile. “I’m really sorry, this is Hannah Montana, may we have a little privacy in your cupboard a second.”

Confused and suddenly realising Hannah Montana was right there, the maid nodded profusely and hurried away. Grabbing Miley’s wrist, I dragged her into the cupboard and closed the door. 

“Miley, this whole dinner is a mess. Have you not been paying attention?”

“You agreed to help me with this, Lilly.”

“Yes, and I shouldn’t have. But it has gone way too far now, Miley. The table is on  _ fire _ , for crying out loud. Do you have any idea how it looks in there? For Hannah?”

Miley shook her head. “I don’t have to listen to this.”

I slammed my palm against the door to stop her leaving. “I’m sorry, Miles. I really am but I can’t do this. This day has been the best and the worst and I can’t take it anymore. I thought I could put on a brave face and be your friend while you figure things out but, this - this desperation to keep running back to him at the expense of Hannah making an absolute mockery of this town, it’s insane. I love you, Miles. I love you to the point that I think my heart might burst but I can’t keep this friend thing up, it’s too painful. I’m too sick of hurting.”

_ It’ll hurt until it doesn’t, then everything will be okay. _

Tears rolled down Miley’s cheeks. She grabbed at her clothes and the make up box, pulling me out of the way and forcing her way out of the door and running down the stairs. She started tugging off the wig, somehow planning to change from Hannah to Miley on the move. 

I followed, hoping to pull her to one side and see some sense about how utterly stupid that was. “Put that wig back on.” I called after her.

Just before she reached the revolving doors, she came to a stop. She dropped the vanity, the outfit but the wig was still clutched in her hand like a subconscious message trying to tell her to put the damn thing back on. I don’t know what made her pause but whatever the reason, I was grateful I didn't have to chase her into the street. 

I was halfway down the last flight of stairs as she turned to face me. Mascara was smeared around her eyes from the tears she had tried to rub away. Still wigless and apparently unconcerned, she found her voice. “Do you really love me?” 

Her voice cracked with emotion as she spoke. I found tears sprang to my own eyes and my throat felt full. I nodded, knowing my voice wouldn’t be strong enough. 

“I don’t mean to keep running. I’m not very good at this, at feelings.” She lifted up her arms and then let them fall again. “I’ve been so confused Lilly, longer than just today. It’s been weeks and weeks and  _ weeks  _ \- ever since Jenny came back with her hair all pink and… and I first saw you noticing her. I’m so sorry that I’ve been hurting you all this time. This whole thing with Travis. I was trying to feel like me again, okay? I wasn’t really thinking, I just desperately wanted to stop thinking about you and all these new things that I’m feeling. Is that so bad? I wanted everything to feel normal again where I didn’t…”

“Where you didn’t kiss your girl best friend.” I finished for her sadly. Worst rejection speech ever. 

“Where I didn’t love her back.”

_ Oh. _

_ Sweet homo. She loves me. She actually said it. She loves me. _

And then she was marching towards me in a teary desperation and I was meeting her half way. Her arms were around me and mine looped around her neck. She kissed me earnestly, everything out in the open, finally. It wasn’t like how our first kiss turned out, fuelled by its newness, fraught with hormones and passion. It was soft, slow and gentle.  _ Loving _ . 

Pulling away and breaking our lips contact, she smiled softly. “I promise I’m going to stop hurting you, stop running. It’s still new to me. I need to come to terms with this, with how i feel. And that might take some time, some time alone with my thoughts so I can figure it out. But, I am here for this, okay?”

I nodded unable to speak around the elation that still filled my chest, making me feel like I was floating. This. This right here is why they write love songs. Her arms were still around me and she pressed another lingering sweet kiss against my lips. 

I heard the revolving doors creak and I opened one eye to glare at whoever was ruining the most romantic evening of my life. I quickly pulled away from Miley and put some distance between us. 

It was too late. The annoyingly handsome boy I could only assume was Travis from the look on his face. He had seen it all. From the discarded outfit on the floor, to Miley still holding Hannah’s blonde wig, to the kisses we had shared. He knew he’d been fooled in more ways than one. Surprisingly, I felt bad for him. 

Miley went white as a sheet. “I can explain.”

“Explain what, Miley? Are you making fun of me, is that it? You get your kicks laughing at me? Lying to me this whole time?”

“It wasn’t like that, I swear.”

“I was honest with you. I told you how I felt - do you have any idea how hard it is to do that?”

I stood silently by with full understanding of how hard it was to admit your feelings. I wanted the ground to swallow me up, I shouldn't be here for this. It wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. Travis was understandably upset and I hurt for him. He thought he’d managed to win a date with Miley, he’d dressed up in his olive green blazer, donned a tie he probably borrowed from his dad with the intentions to impress someone he thought was out of his league. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

“No, you’re not. If you felt anything for me, you would never have played me like this. You know what? Miley - Hannah - whoever you are, we’re done.”

He stormed back out of the revolving doors and marched away. For a second, I thought she was about to race after him and profess that it was him, that she chose him. 

Instead, she crumpled on the bottom stair and fell apart. I quickly joined her on the stair and pulled her into my arms. She sobbed against my chest, great heaving sobs. I ran my hand through her hair as soothingly as I could, not saying a word because I had no idea what could possibly be said right now. 

“Miley?” 

Behind us, Mr S stood at the top of the flight of stairs with a sad look on his face at his daughter. 

She sniffled hard, wiping at her face. “Did... did you see?” 

He nodded. “I saw.”

“Robbie-Ray, is that you down there?” came another voice. Lorelai. Miley and I panicked, still wrapped up in one another, half-Hannah, half-Miley, full-secret-blowing glory. Mr S put up his hands and stopped Lorelai coming any further and seeing us huddled together. 

“Not now Lorelai, I got some family stuff going on.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just this whole evening was a disaster.” She sounded like she was ready to angry-cry or punch a wall or something. I held Miley tighter as we barely dared to breathe. “I organised this whole thing, the whole evening down to the last detail and  _ that girl _ just comes in and ruins it. I don’t care if she is here for a big concert.”

Miley hung her head, swamped with disappointment. She pressed her face into my neck and I felt the warm tears spill softly, silently, steadily over my shoulder. 

“She’s got a complicated life,” Mr S said, trying to appease the woman he was actually on a first date with. “I know it’s hard to understand but, there’s a lot going on here.”

“What’s going on, Robbie-Ray? What aren’t you telling me? Are you a part of all this?” she asked. Mr S either didn’t reply or couldn’t. I heard Lorelai sigh. “You know, I really don’t have time for secrets and lies. And I don’t think I could be happy with somebody who is so comfortable living in them.”

“I know. You shouldn’t have to be. I should’ve told you the truth. And the truth is that…” He hesitated, trying to find the words.  _ Just tell her, dumbass. Plenty of people get let in on the Hannah secret when we care about them.  _ “I just don’t have any place in my life for a relationship right now. There’s no room. Miley and me, we’ve got to sort through some things. She needs me. And I’ve gotta be there for her. I’m sorry.”

Miley put a hand over her mouth to hold back the sound of fresh sobs and all I could do was hold her, to let her cry into my neck like overhearing this conversation wasn’t devastating. Bad choice, Mr S. Bad choice.

“Well, me too then. Me too.” And with that, the woman stormed back up stairs, her feet slapping hard with each step. 

Mr S joined us on the stairs and Miley launched into his arms, sobbing freely. “I’m so sorry, daddy.”

He held her and I was sure he was choking back his own tears. “S’okay, bud. Let’s say we head back home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that long? I feel like that was long.   
> Oops. 
> 
> I promised stuff. Stuff you shall have.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This penultimate chapter sees Miley song-writing in the rain and Lilly gets a stetson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out Lauren Aquilina - Fools

It started to rain when we piled into the back of a cab hastily ordered, escaping the town hall without faked excuses. Just total abandonment. Mr S sat up in front and tried to make distracting and polite conversation with the driver. Miley lay across me, not saying a word. 

By the time we reached the house, the heavens had truly opened and we were drenched just running from the cab and into the house. Miley just wanted to be alone and so I left her as she ran up the stairs and into her bedroom, the door closing behind her.

Mr S gave me a weak smile and he disappeared into his own room, the door closing behind him too. 

I was left, awkwardly, not knowing what to do with myself and so I too retreated to the guest bedroom with the door closed as the rain poured. I had to run a towel through my hair, wet through despite the short run in the rain. Just a few hours ago, when the sunlight had poured in through the window, I had rendered Miley speechless just by sitting here and now, there was silence from her bedroom. 

I tugged off my dress and kicked off the red heels. Blisters were forming on my toes from where they pinched. Finally, with no further plans for the evening, I was getting back into my comfy sweatpants and staying in them goddamn it. I pulled out my journal from under the mattress and started scribbling, more for the distraction than anything else. It had been the weirdest day. To think, just this morning I was grumbling about getting an early flight as a favour to someone who I was still mad at. And now, what were we? We had certainly blown platonic friendship out of the water. Miley herself had said how she’d been thinking of me for weeks, thinking of me in the way that I’d been thinking of her for oh so long.

I looked at my phone and my messages to Oliver had still gone unanswered. Damn it, boy. He had the audacity to climb the trellis and break into my bedroom if I didn’t answer his texts and yet here he was, ignoring the fifteen texts I had sent him with various updates of the day. What was he doing that was more important than keeping up with this mad state of affairs?

An hour passed slowly and then the second came all too quickly. The others had returned from the dinner with exclamations of abandonment and groaning of sheer humiliation. Harlow had apparently been found nestled in someone’s handbag. Mr S, from what I could hear, had tried to calm everybody down and somehow the house seemed to settle into relative quiet. 

Stomach rumbling (curse Harlow for denying me that flaming dessert), I snuck downstairs in hopes of finding something to eat. Mr S and Grandma Ruby were at the kitchen table nursing coffee mugs but from the almost full coffee pot, I had a suspicion it wasn’t caffeine they were drinking. 

“Hey bud, how’re you holding up?” Mr S said with what he must have hoped was a cheery smile. His own heartache poured out almost tangibly. He wore a brown stetson that was almost black from being in the rain. His comfy shirt sported a giant wet patch where the stetson hadn’t managed to protect him. Where had he been in this torrential rain, I wondered. 

I shrugged but then my stomach answered for me, gurgling loudly. 

Grandma Ruby chuckled, her mood lifted now she had something to occupy herself. She had me sit down while she fixed me a sandwich. Mr S couldn’t stop looking at me and I suddenly felt shy. He had heard my most intimate moment, crying after his daughter with declarations of love and heartbreak. He might be okay with it but it was a moment I wished had been mine alone at the same time. 

With a wink, he pushed over his mug. Inside was an amber liquid that burned my nostrils. We both checked Ruby’s back was turned before I dared take a sip. I shuddered and forced the burning whiskey down. Mr S smirked at my reaction and took the mug back. I ran my tongue around my mouth in a desperate attempt to make enough saliva to wash the flavour away. Jeeze, how do people drink that without wincing? 

A moment later, Ruby presented me with a giant roast beef and mustard sandwich that really hit the spot. A side of coleslaw and a bag of salty chips finished me off. Ruby watched me with the pleasure of a grandmother feeding her youngest. I smiled and thanked her appreciatively. I wonder if Mr S had told her the full story, I wonder how she felt about the wry lesbian in her guest bedroom corrupting her only grandaughter. 

I shook the thought from my mind. 

“Ruby, how about we knock another one of those sandwiches up and have Lilly take it through to Miley? I think she ate less than the rest of us.” Mr S said. It seemed the pair of them wanted to have a conversation without me. Ruby nodded to the brown paper package she had already prepared. “Great minds. So, Lil, you up for taking it through?”

“Sure, I’ll take it up.”

“Actually, hon,” Grandma Ruby said. “Miley’s not in the house. She took Blue Jeans on a ride up to the summer house a few fields over. It was her mother’s.”

 _Oh._ With everything going on, I hadn’t even thought about Miley’s mom and the hole she had left here that Miley tried to avoid whenever she could.

“Her mom’s?” I echoed even though I knew it was an intrusion, the sad affected tone from Ruby more than enough to tell me to mind my own business. 

Mr S was the one who managed to speak, his voice whiskey-scented. “When Miley’s ma and I were practically kids, I was farmhand for Ruby over the summer. Obviously, I fell for her daughter, who wouldn’t? I built her a summer house because I didn’t know how to ask her on a date.” He laughed at the memory. “I’d sneak her out and we’d stay dry in the summer house because the barn was too obvious with this one on the hunt.”

Ruby gave him a playful slap and knocked his stetson from his head. “Always sneaking my daughter out of the house like I didn’t hear his giant feet on the porch roof.”

Mr S laughed. 

Grandma Ruby nodded with a sad smile. “Robbie’ll take you through.”

I glanced at his mug of ‘not-coffee’. “It was my first, don’t worry, Lilly-Ray. You’re safe with me.”

And that’s how I found myself in Mr S’ truck bumping over the rough track a few miles with a sandwich on my knee. 

“It’s just up there,” he said, pointing over the fence and up the hill where I could see the wooden structure and Blue Jeans grazing beneath a tree. “I spoke to her a while back. She’s… heartbroken, I guess. Disappointed with herself. I did all that I could but I think it’s maybe a conversation she can’t have with her dad.”

I nodded and started to get out and into the rain. 

“Hang on a sec, Lil,” he said and removed the stetson from his own head and dropped it onto mine. “For the rain.”

The rain was freezing but it seemed to be easing somewhat. I ran, shielding the sandwich inside my jacket and holding the stetson firm to my head. My grey sweatpants darkened with the damp as I ran through the long grass, scaling the slippery hill and rushing over to the summer house and the promise of a dry seat. 

“Hey,” I panted as I reached Miley. She was surprised to see me as she scribbled in her notebook, her guitar across her lap. The bottoms of her jeans were drenched, her hair hanging in damp tendrils. Under the summer house’s roof, I took a dry seat beside her on the floor and revealed the sandwich. “Your grandma makes a mean sandwich.”

“Thanks,” she said softly, taking the package and placing it beside her. 

The summer house was wildly in need of repairs. It was weatherworn and the chairs it housed were rusty. Ivy climbed everywhere and weeds poked through the floorboards. It was sad. The house was almost unchanged from before her mom died, that’s what put Miley off - the ever living memory. But here, the summer house Mr S built for her was allowed to moss over and crumble. But the roof didn’t leak at least. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

Her voice was soft, frightened and she held onto the guitar like a safety blanket. Her eyes were puffy and red and I wondered just how long she had been out here crying in the rain.

“I’m not mad,” I promised, taking her hand and lacing our fingers together. “I’m sad for you. For all the confusion and the fighting and the hurt. And I’m sorry that I’ve been a part of that.”

Miley squeezed our joined hands. “It’s not your fault. It’s all been mine, from the beginning and I guess, I see it now.”

“Is there anything I can do?” 

“Stay with me, for a bit?” 

I put my arm around her and let the brunette curl into my side and we stayed like that, silent, watching the rain for a while. It was easing off and the mist started to rise in the fields, the cold rain evaporating on the warm earth. It was kind of magical. 

I pressed a soft kiss into her damp hair and the change of angle gave me a prime view of her open notebook. The ink ran with either rain or tears but I could clearly see the title underlined at the top of the page. _Lilly’s song._

“Is that what you’ve been doing out here, huh? Writing songs?” I asked softly. 

She nodded. “One for every person I’ve hurt. You, my dad, Travis, my grandma, even Lorelai.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“Yeah,” she pulled out of the embrace and wrapped her cardigan around her tighter. “Would you like to hear yours?”

My heart started to race. Miley had written me a song and now, she was about to what, serenade me? I nodded and hoped I didn’t look too enthusiastic. 

“Bear with me, I’ve only played it through a couple of times,” she said softly, readying the guitar and then she started to play a soft melody. 

_“Those hardest to love need it most_

_I watched our bodies turn to ghosts_

_Such good friends, it has to end it always does_

_That's the way life is_

_Do we take that risk?_

_And so it all boils down to this_

_We've got our aim but we might miss_

_We are too fragile just to guess_

_And I've been in this place before_

_Fine as we are but we want more_

_That's human nature at its best_

_What if we ruin it all, and we love like fools?_

_And all we have we lose?_

_And I don't want you to go but I want you so_

_So tell me what we choose_

_Friends, I watched us as we changed_

_The feelings in my headspace rearranged_

_I want you more than I've wanted anyone_

_Isn't that dangerous?_

_The anticipation before the kiss_

_Mirrored in my shaking lips_

_Oh God I feel so unprepared_

_The two of us so out of place_

_My feelings written on my face_

_Got what I want but now I'm scared_

_What if we ruin it all, and we love like fools?_

_And all we have we lose?_

_And I don't want you to go but I want you so_

_So tell me what_

_Tell me what we choose_

_What we choose_

_What we choose_

_What if we ruin it all, and we love like fools?_

_And all we have we lose?_

_And I don't want you to go but I want you so_

_So tell me what_

_Tell me what_

_Tell me what we choose.”_

I don’t know when I started crying. All I could feel were the hot streaks down my cheeks, unbidden and uncontrollable. My body acted of its own accord, my arm reaching out and my hand cupping Miley’s cheek. It was damp, her own tears softly flowing too. She pressed her face into my touch, her eyes sliding closed and then she kissed my palm so gently. 

_Heart. Melt. Swoon._

I drew her in, pressing my lips against hers. It was gentle and unhurried, we had all the time in the world huddled together in that summer house. Our fears and anxieties melted away to be dealt with at another time. Right now, as Miley gently eased our kisses into more open mouthed ones, her tongue sliding across my bottom lip, I had far more pertinent concerns. Like Miley’s hands slipping under the bottom of my shirt, squeezing at the bare skin of my hips as if trying to keep me from fading away like a dream. 

A soft noise of appreciation vibrated in my throat but I didn’t care about how obvious I was being in my wanting, my fingers deep in her hair and scratching lightly at her scalp. I needed her closer, impossibly closer. 

My heart had been put through its paces but right now, it was swollen with sheer happiness, even as Miley broke our kiss and pulled back. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not complaining,” I smiled, inhaling deeply to refill my lungs. 

She smiled cheekily. “I meant about stopping, actually.”

“Oh, well don’t apologise, just carry on. I’m okay with that too.”

“I bet,” she smirked and took my hand instead, lacing our fingers again. “I just… it’s all very new and I don’t want to go too fast, if that’s okay? Believe me, I want to but it freaks me out a bit.”

“S’okay,” I told her, bringing our joined hands up to press a kiss against the back of her hand. “I’m okay with slow and thank you, for the song. It didn’t sound like your usual stuff, but I loved it.”

“Yeah, it’s not for Hannah. It’s mine, ours. I don’t know… I don’t know how I feel about Hannah right now. I love her, of course I do but she’s made such a mess of things that I can’t… what if I’m done with her?”

“Done with her? What, like retiring her forever?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m mad at her, mad at myself for what’s happened. Maybe I do need to have a break or just, just stop.”

Miley looked pensive and I knew she was arguing in her mind and so I let her, holding her as the rain finally eased into nothing and the dark of the night was quickly starting to roll in. Miley pulled me to my feet with promises of heading back to the house before it got too dark to ride. 

“No, you saw how badly I rode Doc earlier, you are not getting me on another horse.” 

“Lilly, I told you, that was _not_ riding a horse. And anyway, Blue Jeans is sweet and gentle. And I’ll be with you the whole way.” She jumped up onto Blue Jeans’ back with ease and held her hand out to me to pull me up. I had her guitar strapped around my back and suddenly, the height seemed too far. 

“You realise that even though Blue Jeans is smaller, it’s still a fair jump, right?”

“You’re such a chicken,” she laughed. “Here, put your left foot in the stirrup and I’ll pull you up then swing your leg over. Easy.”

“Easy,” I muttered but did as she asked. She pulled me up on the count of three as I pushed up off of the ground. My leg swung a lot harder than I meant to and I slammed hard into the back of Miley. 

“Sweet Niblets, Lil.” She cursed and readjusted herself on the saddle. “Right, don’t get any ideas, will you?” 

Her voice was husky with desire but before I could ask her what she meant, she kicked in with her heels and Blue Jeans set off back towards the house at a quick trot. The motion of the horse had me sliding back and forth, my _crotch_ back and forth against Miley. _Sweet gay godesses, why do you torture me?_ The arousal came quickly and I couldn’t completely ignore it. Instead, I wrapped my arms around Miley’s waist for stability and closed my eyes, waiting for it to be over (and memorising it for use at a later date…). 

* * *

Later that night, finally wrapped up in bed with sleep just moments away, I heard my door creak open. And close. And open. And close again.

Blearily opening my eyes, I saw Miley hesitate when she opened the door again. Not speaking a word, I flung back the covers in silent invitation. 

In the darkness, I listened to her pad softly across the room and climb into the bed beside me. It was a tight fit but Miley didn’t seem to mind, pressing as close as she could to my back and snaking an arm around my middle. _Holy homo, I'm the little spoon._

I was grateful for the darkness so she couldn’t see the blush that would betray me. 

“You okay?” I murmured, relishing the feel of her against me. Her bare legs slid against mine. 

I only ever wore baggy t-shirts to bed paired with boxer briefs. Sometimes it was an oversized Hannah Montana tour shirt because they were surprisingly soft and I suppose I enjoyed the giant image of Miley on my chest. Tonight, I had a loose white shirt, it’s graphic no longer visible from years of wear. Miley’s hands slid underneath, breathtakingly close to an area that had not forgotten that torturous ride back to the house, as her fingers brushed against the waistband of my boxers and then splayed happily across my stomach. 

“I couldn’t sleep thinking about Hannah, the concert and people and, god, everything...” she said softly and kissed my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just didn’t want to be on my own.”

“S’okay,” I said as sleep pulled me away, completely content wrapped in her embrace. I wanted to tell her what my mom had said, about it hurting until it didn’t and that afterwards, it would all be okay. But sleep was too enticing when I was warm and untroubled next to her and I only managed three words. “Stay. Please stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I love chapter length consistency, don't you?
> 
> Still more stuff to come and then this whole thing will be over.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chicken coop naps, hot dogs and dancing in trucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're still here? Wow. Welcome.   
> Your prize? The last lot of stuff as we reach our final chapter/

I awoke alone. 

A cockerel cawed outside at the first sign of the dawn and alerted me to that fact. I immediately knew something was different, even still wrapped up in the sheets, I was colder. The only evidence that someone else had shared my bed was the slight depression of the pillow on the other side and the happiness that still lingered in my stomach. 

For a moment, I thought Miley must have just returned to her own bed but from the way she had held me all night, I doubted it. Fearing another haphazard Miley plan of perhaps attempting to cook breakfast for the entire household as an apology, I swung my legs out of bed and wrapped myself in the robe from the back of the bedroom door. 

Thankfully, the kitchen was empty and so we were all safe from burnt sausages and flaming toast. I refilled the coffee pot ready for when the others started to wake. I yawned at the kitchen window, picking at the last slice of squash cake that was left out on the side hiding under foil. 

Something colourful caught my eye in the brightening dawn. Was that… the chicken coop?

I am absolutely positive that it was completely unpainted yesterday. And is that…  _ yep, there she is. _

Easing myself out of the house as quietly as possible, each floor board and door creaking as I departed caused me to mutter curses under my breath. But then finally I was outside and it didn’t sound as though I had disturbed anyone. 

I shoved on some abandoned work boots that were by the door. They weren’t too big, actually, they were almost the perfect size. They must be Jackson’s, I thought and then set off at a jog over to the chicken coop. 

I slowed to a walk as I approached, taking in the rainbow feat. The coop, once bland and boring, was now a cacophony of primary colours. Reds, blues, yellows. There was no order to the colour placement other than “bright and loud”. It looked good. Annoyingly good. Something so gaudy should not look this good. Especially not a  _ chicken coop. _

Atop the blue roof, Miley was fast asleep amongst the tins of paint. Splashes of reds and yellows covered her face like freckles. Blue paint stretched up her fingers and there was a patch in her hair. In her hand, she loosely held onto a now dried paintbrush. 

I was almost loathed to wake her but I couldn’t leave her out here now the sun was rising. These country folk liked to do everything early. We wouldn’t have long before the household was fighting over the bathroom and they didn’t have to go from a paint-covered country girl to a charity-concert-performing-popstar in a matter of hours. 

“Miley?” I called. She snored in response. I raised my voice and called again. “Miley!”

“Yes? What?” she bolted upright, startled and promptly slipped from the roof and behind the coop. 

“Miley!” I sprinted around the other side and found her crumpled in a hay bale that had cushioned her fall. 

She was still a little dazed, from sleep, from her fall. “Don’t you know better than to yell at someone who is asleep on top of a chicken coop?!”

“Well, I do now!” I pulled her to her feet and nodded at the paintwork. “This is incredible. Did you really do all this?”

She smiled, admiring her handiwork in the morning light. “Just a little hard work, that’s all. Life’s a climb.” She mused and then her face fell a little, soft and sad. “Is it time?”

“Almost,” I told her. “We should have time to get this paint off of you, maybe a less rushed transformation than the last night of your tour, eh?”

“That’d be nice,” she said with a soft laugh. “I had a wedgie for three whole songs because of that.”

* * *

The tour bus emblazoned with the HM brand had picked us up at the house and I had climbed aboard dressed as Hannah again. Mr S and Jackson had done their best to keep the fans that had followed the bus through the town from coming onto the land. But, with sneaky Oswald likely still lingering, we could never be too careful. 

Crowley Meadows was heaving. It looked as if the whole town was here and more! To say this was such a last minute affair, the town had done an incredible job. There was an entire fair complete with ferris wheel, merry-go-round, hook a duck, hay bale tractor rides. Hell, it had everything. 

The stage was amazing, complete with a hand painted mural. Vita had brought the programme for Hannah at breakfast with her hand picked selection of songs, Hannah’s usual backing dancers had been summoned from California, a vast array of costumes delivered. It made me realise that as distracting as the pair of us had been, other people had made sure that this concert would go ahead without a hitch. Vita, publabitch, had clearly been doing some kind of work behind the scenes and I decided I hated her a little less if this amazing spectacle of an event had her hand behind it. 

Grandma Ruby was just arriving, I could see her through the tour bus window, and she was beaming. She looked the happiest I had seen her all weekend, no disappointing sighs or reluctant baking of prize-squashes, just sheer happiness. Approached by approving and excited townspeople en route, Ruby was heading straight for the tour bus. 

I shuffled out of my seat and took Miley’s hand. 

“Your grandma’s coming, I’m gonna head out and grab a couple of hot dogs.” 

“I’m too nervous to eat.”

“Who said I was getting you a hot dog?” I smirked and it gained a small smile. “Hey, you never get nervous. What’s going on?”

“I’m still thinking about Hannah and how much  _ shit _ she’s caused.” She waved me away with her hand. “Now go on, I’ll call you when I need a hand getting ready. Go get in line before you get stuck with the hot dogs they’ve dropped on the floor.”

“Mmm,” I mock-salivated. “Free range.” 

She did laugh then, properly. My work here was done. I kissed her softly on the top of her head and jumped out of the bus. Ruby was just getting past security. I gave her a wave and she smiled back at me. “Is she still in there?”

“Yeah, pre-show nerves, I think.”

I left Ruby in search of the hot dogs. I could smell them and, like a bloodhound, I followed my nose. 

* * *

In the crowd, there was an electric atmosphere that happened at every concert. That thrum of excitement and anticipation that runs through every vein, bubbles in every stomach, vibrates in every limb. 

The whole family, myself and Vita included, congregated together in the crowd on a slightly raised podium for the VIPs. Unfortunately, that meant I had Cousin Derrick right behind me but apparently, as Jackson assured me, Harlow was safely in a cage. Derrick was not pleased about it but after the escapades at the dinner and his subsequent punishment from Ruby, he had relented to leaving the ferret behind. 

Ruby was on the other side of me and had been gushing to Mr S about how proud of Miley she was, yesterday evening already forgotten. They’d had thousands and thousands of dollars being donated every minute, the money so desperately needed flooding in. Ruby couldn’t be happier and as she told Mr S about how proud Miley’s mother, her daughter, would have been, Mr S struggled to speak. 

It was strange. Whenever I thought about Miley’s dislike for coming back to Crowley Corners, for dismissing birthdays and family vacations in favour of other things… I always knew that part of it was down to her mother. Not all of it, but a good part of it. 

There was the summer house, built with love but left to rot, long abandoned. Even as he had told me about the summer house, I never really thought about Mr S’ feelings about this place. He seemed so at home, so at ease here in the town where he grew up, fell in love and started a family. But here he was, choking up at the thought of his late wife being proud of the daughter he had been raising alone for so long. 

I tried to give him a comforting smile, hating how I hadn’t acknowledged his emotions before now. 

That’s when the high school orchestra who had been supplying an array of tunes, including instrumental covers of well-loved Hannah Montana tracks, eased up and quickly left the stage. The crowd started to cheer in expectation for the main act, a low murmur turning into a loud scream. There was yelling, whistling, chanting. 

“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah!”

I yelled along with them and Ruby gave me a little elbow in the ribs and I realised I had been yelling right in her ear. I gave an embarrassed smile and settled for clapping as hard as I could with the occasional  _ woop! _

The speakers started up with one of Miley’s favourite opening numbers. I knew it would really get the crowd going just as it did on so many tour dates. 

The first few opening notes of  _ Rockstar _ blared and the screaming of the crowd escalated.

And there she was. 

The crowd erupted as she jogged out on stage. 

We’d decided to dial back the Hannah aesthetic somewhat for this country charity gig, exchanging the glitter and sequins for dark wash jeans and a plain red tee. Tying it together with a silver sleeveless hoodie, it was the perfect combination for ‘Home Town Hannah’ as we dubbed it. It was Miley’s idea, relatively last-minute naturally, but we pulled it off. After all, as Miley justified, this wasn’t about Hannah or the bling or fame, it was about a small town that needed help. 

As she sang, she found me in the crowd as she always did every tour. She’d once told me that it helped ground her when the crowd looked neverending, finding my familiar face amongst the wave of strangers. I grinned, cheering even louder even if Ruby winced and put a finger in her ear. 

Three verses in, the crowd was absolutely loving it. Miley looked out across the sea of people again. I don’t know whether she’d lost where I was and panicked but suddenly, she was staring out and her mouth stopped moving. 

The music carried on without her, leading into the chorus and the next verse without her lyrics. The dancers continued with the routine but they all kept their eyes on Miley as she stood stationary, silent and gripping the bedazzled microphone stand as if her life depended on it. 

I turned, trying to follow her line of sight. 

_ Travis. _

There he was, stood on top of something for a better view and sticking out like a golden haired, herculean thumb.  _ Damnit, still not an insult.  _

Peering back at Miley, her eye line had changed and she dizzyingly focused on different people in the crowd. I tried to follow it.  _ Travis. Lorelai. Ruby. Mr S. Me. Travis. Lorelai. Ruby. Mr S. Me. _

“I can’t do this,” she said into the microphone. 

I caught Mr S’ eye and he shook his head at me. He had no idea what was happening either. All I knew, as the music was killed and the dancers came to a confused stop, was that Miley looked like she was about to burst into tears, or faint. Was this a panic attack?

I jumped down from the VIP podium and pushed my way through the murmuring crowd. No one knew what was happening. Someone said something about it being a strange time for a skit. I heard another as I squeezed through wondering if there was a problem with her ear piece or something. 

“Coming through, hi, excuse me, can I just-” I forced my way through the throngs of people. 

“I’m sorry, I don't think I can do this anymore,” Miley’s voice reverberated as I found myself about halfway to the stage, passing a speaker that almost deafened me with her sadness. “I’ve loved being Hannah… but, not here. Not like this. You see, this is home. This is where I’m from… this is family and there are only so many sacrifices you can ask a family to make.”

I finally tripped over the last person and belly-slammed into the stage, almost knocking out a couple of seven-year olds who had probably queued since 4am to get this spot.  _ Sorry kids, emergency lesbian priority right now. _

“The last time I stood on this stage, I was six.” She said looking up at the sky with no idea that I was by her feet, almost within arms reach.  _ Oh, god. What is happening.  _ “I wasn’t Hannah back then. I was… I was just Miley.”

_ What. _

_ Is. _

_ Happening? _

“And I still am.”

Before I could even begin to contain my gasp or shout up at her or do  _ something,  _ the wig was off. She dropped it to the stage like trash and pulled off the silver jacket to follow it. 

_ Ka-boom.  _

The Hannah secret. The giant secret that had taken forever for me to be let on to, the one that gave Miley a normal life, the one that we had spent years protecting… gone. 

The audience was shocked to say the least. Gasping. Gossiping. Marvelling. 

I could have hung my head, slammed it hard into the stage like this whole unveiling was my fault. I could hear Vita already screaming about how she never trusted me with the secret, that I was a bad influence. But I couldn’t take my eyes off of what was unfolding before me. 

Miley, red t-shirt and jeans, looked more comfortable than she had all morning. She looked a little tired and weary, sure, but painting a chicken coop before dawn could do that to a girl. Her shoulders sagged despite the weight she had just taken from her shoulders. All that she had said about Hannah… I never expected this, I never expected her to give it all up just like that. I hadn’t listened, not really.she’d tried to tell me and I never gave her the sounding board she had needed, never gave her the comfort. I’d ignored something so huge and there was no going back now. 

Why didn’t alarm bells ring when she told me she wasn’t gonna wear the wig cap? She always wore a wig cap when there was tonnes of dancing involved. Oh god, had she really planned this and I had no idea? Was I a completely terrible person?

_ Fucknuts.  _

I think that was out loud. 

Miley looked down at the cuss and she scoffed, a light exhale through her nostrils when she found my worried face on the front row. I didn’t dare take my eyes off of her, fully aware an angry mother was next to me and scowling with protective hands over her little girl’s ears who would likely be repeating ‘fucknuts’ the whole car ride home. 

“Hannah has hurt - no,  _ I’ve _ hurt so many people… but I didn’t mean to.” Miley continued and I could see the tears in her eyes. She found Lorelai in the crowd again and the audience followed her gaze. “Please don’t hate my dad. He was trying to protect me, yet again even though I’ve long destroyed all the second chances I deserved. And, Mr Mayor,” she directed herself at the Mayor and his wife a little further to the left. “I’m so sorry about the dinner. I… I should never have behaved as I did. It was disrespectful, and if you’ll let me, I’d like to find a way to repay you. And, Travis, I… I should never have lied to you. I hurt you because I didn’t understand myself and that wasn’t fair.”

She found me again on the front row, half way onto the stage with the way people were  _ shoving me _ . 

“Lilly, I’ve hurt you the most and I’ve done it over and over and here you are, front row and centre as if I deserve you. No matter what I do, however unfair, you’re at my side.” 

“Always.”

She smiled. 

Turning towards backstage she caught the attention of one of the crew. “Can I get a non-glittery stand over here please? And do we still have the orchestra?”

There was a lot of movement as her mic stand was swapped out and the local high school orchestra scrambled back on stage with their seats and instruments. 

“I know you all came to see Hannah today,” she said to the crowd. “But if you don’t mind, I’ve written y’all a song. It’s kinda personal and it’s not for Hannah. This is just Miley. Someone told me that ‘life’s a climb, but the view is great’. You see, I haven’t been back home for a long time and I guess, I had a lot more to learn than I thought and I’ve tried to put it into a song, if that’s okay?”

Miley was quickly losing confidence the longer people were looking at her. Miley was never one for all the attention. Hannah could handle it but Miley was starting to crumble. She put down the mic and spoke quietly to the orchestra who nodded in understanding. Back at the mic stand (a non-bedazzled stand), she slotted the mic in as soft piano notes started to play. 

It was only a few notes before she started to sing, her eyes closed. It was simple and beautiful and had I not already been in love with her, the song would certainly have done the trick. 

_ “I can almost see it _

_ That dream I'm dreaming but _

_ There's a voice inside my head saying _

_ You'll never reach it, _

_ Every step I'm taking, _

_ Every move I make feels _

_ Lost with no direction _

_ My faith is shaking but I _

_ Gotta keep trying _

_ Gotta keep my head held high.” _

The audience lifted their arms with the rhythm, waving in support as Miley poured her heart out on stage. I lifted my arms with them, swaying in time and wishing I could hold her hand, to tell her that it was all going to be okay. 

_ “There's always gonna be another mountain _

_ I'm always gonna wanna make it move _

_ Always gonna be an uphill battle _

_ Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose _

_ Ain't about how fast I get there _

_ Ain't about what's waiting on the other side _

_ It's the climb _

We were all cheering now, clapping and whooping as if our lives depended on it. I heard a whistle above at the din and knew that could only be Mr S, the only man alive who could whistle across state lines. I cheered as loud as I possibly could, competing with the kid next to me who had learned her first cuss word. Miley caught my scream and grinned down at me. She was confident now, dancing and interacting with the musicians on stage, looking more like herself and more  _ beautiful than I had ever seen her. _

_ The struggles I'm facing _

_ The chances I'm taking _

_ Sometimes might knock me down but _

_ No I'm not breaking _

_ I may not know it _

_ But these are the moments that _

_ I'm going to remember most yeah _

_ Just got to keep going _

_ And I _

_ I gotta be strong _

_ Just keep pushing on, 'cause _

_ There's always gonna be another mountain _

_ I'm always gonna wanna make it move _

_ Always gonna be an uphill battle _

_ Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose _

_ Ain't about how fast I get there _

_ Ain't about what's waiting on the other side _

_ It's the climb (yeah) _

_ There's always gonna be another mountain _

_ I'm always gonna wanna make it move _

_ Always gonna be a uphill battle _

_ Sometimes you gonna have to lose _

_ Ain't about how fast I get there _

_ Ain't about what's waiting on the other side _

_ It's the climb (yeah yeah ea ea) _

_ Keep on moving _

_ Keep climbing _

_ Keep the faith baby _

_ It's all about _

_ It's all about _

_ The climb _

_ Keep the faith _

_ Keep your faith _

_ Whoa oh oh.” _

The song came to an end but the cheering and clapping went on. My hands felt raw from slapping them together, my voice hoarse. 

Then I watched, impossibly, as that confidence quickly ebbed away and Miley retreated back into that shyness, that weakness that she had when she cut  _ Rockstar  _ short. 

With a wave of her hand, the crowd’s cheering quietened. 

“I’m sorry, for everything. Thank you, thank you for letting me be Hannah. I guess, this is it. Goodbye.”

It was the saddest goodbye I had ever heard. My heart broke for her. 

At my side, little  _ fucknuts _ reached her tiny hands onto the stage. “Please, be Hannah again.” Her voice was so small, so quiet, so innocent. I noticed the Hannah Montana t-shirt she wore for the first time, the denim jacket embellished with HM badges, the officially licensed bracelets. “We’ll keep your secret.”

Miley crouched down and took her hand softly. “I’m so sorry. I can’t, not any more. It’s too late.”

“Sure, you can!” yelled a male voice. Over the tops of the crowd, Travis grinned. She was forgiven. 

“Just put the wig back on,” Vita called next. “You’ll never have a normal life if you don’t.”

“Hannah’s a part of you,” I shouted despite being practically next to her. My voice hoarse from shouting and the emotion collecting there. With a short and painful jump as I scraped my chest on the stage, I was able to reach the blonde wig and I held it up to her. “Don’t let her go.”

Miley, still crouching, took my hand that held the Hannah wig. With no microphone, only the front row could hear us clearly. 

“Lilly, are you sure? Hannah’s hurt you, I’ve hurt you. You have every right to hate her. I’m done with her if you want me to be.”

“I’d never want you to abandon her. Sure, Hannah has been a bitc - uh,  _ unfair  _ \- sometimes,” I corrected with another scowl from little  _ fucknuts’  _ mother. “But she is still a part of you and I could never hate her or you - I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time I had said those three words. But I think, after the adrenaline of what had transpired on stage, it was the first time Miley had really taken on board how deep that love goes. The smile on her face started small and then spread wide into that spectacular smile that her father had dubbed her “Smiley Miley” for. My Miley. 

“Give me a hand with this, would you?” she said, pulling me onto the stage without waiting. She handed me the blonde wig and I automatically shook it out, dislodging the knots with my fingers.

The crowd chanted again. “Hannah, Hannah, Hannah.”

Lola Luftnagle had been in her fair share of the limelight but I certainly was not expecting to find myself on stage when I woke up this morning. My hands were shaking as I brushed Miley’s brunette hair into place. She watched my ministrations with amusement. “Nervous?” she asked with a cheeky smile. 

“I’ve never had two-thousand people watch me do this before, alright?”

The mic caught me and I heard my voice on the speakers and dreaded to think of how red my face would be as the audience chuckled. 

_ There we go.  _ The wig was back on, Hannah had returned to the stage. Applause erupted and I grinned. 

“Welcome back, stanger.” I laughed. She took my hand and held it, lacing our fingers like it was already a habit. 

“ _ I love you too _ .” 

There was a small sound, miniscule in comparison to the volume of the audience but it caught my attention. There, clearly having just forced his way to the front row, was Oswald the reporter. His camera phone was in the air and he had just snapped a photo of my hand still adjusting the wig, the other laced with Miley’s. Sensing my distraction, Miley turned and spotted him too. 

“No, please!” 

Oswald bustled his way through the crowd, moving as quickly as he could. 

“Somebody stop him!” I heard someone yell and it was only as my own feet started to move that I realised that it had been me. 

Oswald was running backstage, away from the throngs of country folk who could turn into angry mob at a moment’s notice. I sprinted across the stage, slipping through the painted barn door and to the small wooden balcony. There were stairs on either side leading to the ground but Oswald was right there, if I double backed for the stairs, I’d lose him.  _ Fuck it. _

I launched myself over the barrier and landed heavily against the reporter, slamming him hard to the ground. My ears were ringing from the hit but I scrambled for the phone. 

“Give me the fucking thing,” I spat through gritted teeth, pinning the man three times my size to the ground and grappling for ownership of the phone. “What kind of reporter uses a shitty little camera phone anyway?”

“The ones who can press send at any moment and have those photos in the media in two hours.”

I stopped, I held up my hands. I wanted to punch him, right in the neck, but his finger was on the button and it was too risky. 

That’s when I realised I had an audience. Mr S was torn between cheering me on and reprimanding me for the scrap. Vita and Grandma Ruby were out of breath, looking just as vicious as the other and ready for a fight. Miley was up on the balcony, looking down on the scene from above. Travis was behind me, blocking a potential exit. He gave me a nod and I guess that meant we were cool. I nodded back and carefully retracted myself from the reporter, staying close enough that I could jump right back in if I needed to. 

Security in yellow polo shirts appeared and joined the circle of protection we had around the reporter.  _ Where the hell were you guys? Did I have him pinned down while you were getting ice cream?! _

“Back off, everyone.” Oswald said, a pointed look at me. I took a tiny step back, barely two inches. “Anyone comes any closer and I send these photos. Two secrets for the price of one. Jackpot.”

“Don’t do it, man.” Mr S said, desperate to protect his loved ones.

“I’m sorry but there is nothing on earth that would stop me sending these photos.” Oswald said and tapped in a speed dial number. I could hear the dial tone. 

“I think there is,” Vita said with her phone to her ear. “Send them back stage.”

Curious, I turned at the sound of sudden giggling. Two girls in uniforms ran towards Oswald with a “Daddy, daddy!”

“Girls? Phoebe, Clarrissa?” He held out his arms to them but kept his finger on the phone which was still dialing. “What are you doing here?”

“That nice lady,” one of them said, pointing at Vita. “She had a private limo pick us up and flew us here.”

“First class!” the other added excitedly. “It was brilliant. Are we too late? Is she going to sing again? We got stuck on the way here -  _ cows in the road _ .”

Vita looked smug and I couldn’t help but grin. This was amazing. “I thought your girls might appreciate some free VIP tickets.”

Oswald’s phone started yelling, whoever was on the other one had finally answered and she was not happy about being ignored. Oswald looked at his phone then at his daughters and up at Miley, still in her Hannah wig. Following his gaze, his daughters looked up and spotted Hannah Montana looking down at them. Miley waved and the girls promptly screamed with repeated gushes of “Oh my god, it’s her!”

“Is that your story?” Vita asked accusingly, pulling him to one side. “Are you going to destroy your children’s dreams? Because that’s what Hannah is all about.”

With Vita taking over the strongman position, I squeezed past the screaming girls and climbed the stairs up to Miley’s side. She automatically took my hand. It was a prime position to dive on Oswald again if I needed to.  _ Throat punch, this time. _

Oswald at least had the decency to look torn before he put the phone to his ear. “Yes, I’m here Lucinda. I have a great story for you.” Miley squeezed my hand. Mr S balled his hands into fists. I put one foot up on the railing. “Yes,  _ Bon Chic _ magazine is run by a wretched, soulless succubus who preys on the misfortune of others. And I am not going to put up with it any longer.” 

He closed the flip phone, cutting off the screaming of his boss. Then he promptly threw the phone at the ground where it smashed into pieces. 

“I think I just quit.”

_ Yes. Thank fuck for that. _

Vita made quick work getting the British girls back out front with their father, promising that Hannah had a few more songs in her. Travis tipped his hat and headed back out as the security and Mr S departed. It left Miley and I alone backstage. 

Turning to me, she kissed me soundly on the mouth. A little dazed, I eventually pulled back. “What was that for?”

“For being you.”

_ Heart. Melt. Swoon. _

“Did you mean it?” She asked, suddenly nervous again. “About Hannah? It’s going to be hard, navigating all of this between us with Hannah still around.”

“Miles,” I breathed softly with a smile, my hand squeezing hers. “Brown hair, blonde hair,  _ no hair _ \- I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

She grinned and dove back in to press her lips on mine. “I guess there’s only one thing to ask before I get back on stage.” Her lips brushed against mine as she spoke, sending shivers down my spine. I think I made a small noise of ‘oh?’ but I couldn’t be sure, my arms finding their home around her waist and drinking her in. “Mhm. So, how d’ya fancy being my girlfriend?”

My eyes sprang open then, taking in Miley’s soft and earnest expression. “Guess we’ve blown friendship completely off the table, eh?” I laughed, bringing her back to my mouth and biting softly at her bottom lip before giving her my answer. “Absolutely.” 

* * *

The final song of the concert was magic to watch, back on the VIP podium with the others. Another song Miley had written in her time here, choreography and costuming included.  _ You’ll Always Find Your Way Back Home  _ was quickly becoming one of my favourite numbers, the whole thing entirely entertaining, especially as they all skipped off stage in office attire and returned in stereotypical (and gaudy) country clothing complete with Hannah sporting giant pigtails. She had a truck waiting, a secondary moving stage in the truckbed.

Who knew that we would find ourselves here in such a short space of time. From best friends to ruined birthdays, to stolen kisses and love triangles and declarations, to secrets and no secrets and secrets again, to  _ girlfriends.  _ Miley Stewart was my  _ girlfriend.  _

_ Somebody pinch me.  _

That girl right there, climbing aboard the back of a truck with her dancers, she was my  _ girlfriend.  _ She was in love with me. In love with me! She’d said so herself, more than once. Oliver is going to lose his mind when he realises how much has happened. I bet he won’t even believe me. Oh, she’s coming over. The truck, she’s directing it towards the VIP podium, still singing. 

And then she was there, right in front of me and holding out her hand. I hesitated. I’d already been on stage once and now, you want me on a moving vehicle?  _ Can’t be worse than trying to ride Doc. _

Grandma Ruby pushed me and I stumbled onto the truck bed, landing in Miley’s arms as she somehow didn’t miss a beat, singing consistently. With one hand, she continued to sing, with the other, she put it on my hip and tried to force me to dance along with her as the truck carried us away. With that sparkle in her eye, the happy grin on her face as she did exactly what she had created Hannah Montana for, I couldn’t help but allow her to sway my hips and dance. 

Satisfied that I was enjoying myself, she held my hand and I tried to sing along to the song. I didn’t know it, obviously, but I picked up the chorus quickly and laced my fingers with hers. 

From this position, I could see Lorelai pushing through the crowd to Mr S. They didn’t speak for long before Mr S leaned in and kissed her,  _ finally! _

Slowly, impossibly, the crowd at Crowley Meadows became nothing more than a coloured blur on the horizon and we collapsed in each other in the back of the truck. 

“Guess what.”

Her voice was teasing. I raised an eyebrow in curiosity. 

“Please don’t tell me there is some elaborate scheme going on in that head of yours? Have you not had enough excitement yet?”

She shook her head, smirking.

“Then what?”

“I might not know what or if I have a label, but, I am most definitely, a Lilsbian.” 

Miley winked as though it was the best line she could have ever said. And as I laughed, pulling her to my mouth to stop her smugness from getting worse, I thought, perhaps it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. That was cathartic. 
> 
> I mean, what’s ten years between friends. Especially when I rewrote something that was actually complete and I’ve ignored the incomplete ones so far. At least I’m consistent in my procrastination, even a decade later. 
> 
> I’m considering starting on a couple of the other ones from FF. Maybe populating my AO3 with the vast array of unfinished works on my Google Docs from various different fandoms. Maybe it’ll take another ten years so that the original fans are all grown up and don’t care about the pairings anymore. Who knows. Not me.
> 
> But, I guess if you’re into delayed gratification or whatever, hang around and see.
> 
> Peace.


End file.
